


Ties That Bind

by unpossible



Category: Dark Angel
Genre: First Time, M/M, My First Fanfic, Post-Canon, Sexual Abuse (Past), Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-05
Updated: 2011-11-13
Packaged: 2017-10-24 08:12:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 22
Words: 74,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/261065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unpossible/pseuds/unpossible
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Logan blinks like he always does when Alec lets slip some sign that he's more than just a pretty face and a smokin' hot body.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Love Among the Goons

Logan is following Alec down yet another dark alleyway when the other man halts, one of those sudden _no-really-stop-everything_ moments that lead to a boatload of trouble every time. He can feel the headache starting already.

Still, it's almost funny to see Alec clench a fist, held upright, soldier-speak Logan is almost fluent in by now - _stop and hold position_ , or something similar.

Alec holds it for a full half-second before he remembers. Logan doesn't know whether to be insulted or complimented that Alec forgot, just for a moment, that the guy behind him wasn't another transgenic soldier like himself.

He watches Alec for a cue, sees from the faraway look in those green eyes that he is listening - scanning for trouble?

“They've guessed we’re transgenics,” he rasps, his mouth close to Logan's ear, tickling. “Going for the reward instead of the deal.”

 _Shit_ , Logan thinks, but doesn't say. They needed those supplies. Food for the large number now huddled in Terminal City was always a problem, but concealing their background had to take precedence. They could stand hunger, for a while anyway. Infiltration - that was a real danger.

Alec turns his back on the warehouse at the end of the alley and jostles Logan back the way they came - one warm hand on his ribs urging him silently along. For all the other man's smart mouth on the way here, he is all business now, watching their six as they backtrack.

 _Good thing we were early_ , Logan has time to think, before Alec's hand at his side suddenly flexes then squeezes.

Logan glances back, questioning, but Alec is staring past him to the street ahead. He gives one short sharp shake of his head, then flattens them both against the wall, scanning everywhere at once.

“What?” Logan murmurs. The guys they’re hiding from don’t have enhanced hearing.

“They've got lookouts already on the street,” he mumbles back, tilting his head to the route they'd taken to get here. “They’re fanning out now.”

He's gazing upward and Logan knows exactly why. The X5's have always had a weakness for a vertical exit. But there's no way Logan can make it up there. The exoskeleton had taken a hell of a beating in recent weeks, it could keep him upright and walking but not much else. Deciding not to ask for another transfusion yesterday was suddenly looking like dumb pride.

Alec knows all of this, of course. Doesn't stop him from surveying the brick walls, a reckless smile playing around his mouth as he calculates.

“Just _go_ ,” Logan murmurs, “it's okay. I've got no barcode, they can't prove anything.”

“Yeah I'm sure they're all about the burden of proof and reasonable doubt,” Alec mutters back and Logan blinks like he always does when Alec lets slip some sign that he's more than just a pretty face and a smokin' hot body, with kamikaze tendencies.

“You're forgetting of course that they'd no doubt beat the ever living shit out of you to get the tiniest scrap of information about where we are,” he continues, still scanning the walls.

“You'd get me out.”

“So you think I'm asshole enough to leave you here, but you trust me to not totally abandon you?” The other man's tone is thin and totally pissed.

“It's the smartest play,” Logan hisses back as Alec turns away from those inviting walls and starts walking Logan backwards along the alley, his body bumping carelessly and a little mean. Even in this dim light those green eyes are obviously spitting fire.

Still, he keeps trying. “Why give them two prisoners?”

“Shut up,” Alec mutters and lets his feet tangle with Logan's so the taller man stumbles back into a dingy doorway, shoulders slamming against brick, nowhere else to go.

“What are you doing?”

Alec glances over one shoulder and then back at Logan, and now his face is carefully blank. “In a few minutes, those goons are going to start spreading out through these alleyways and they are going to find two guys doing what guys do in a place like this.” And as he speaks he is oh so casually undoing Logan's belt, his body crowding a lot closer than he ever has before.

Logan just blinks at him. His brain seems to have turned to oatmeal somewhere between _I'm going to get beaten up_ and _I'm going to have an x-rated encounter in a dark alley_.

“What?” He says, stupidly. “Wait - what?”

By which time Alec already has his belt undone, button popped, breath ghosting over Logan's lips. He's close, so close all of a sudden and Logan has no idea when Alec started smelling this good

“No,” he manages to say. “No way.”

“Yes way,” Alec responds, and he has the balls - _no, don't think about balls_ \- to smirk as he slides his hand inside Logan's boxers.

“Uh-” Logan freezes, sucking in a sharp breath as a warm hand surrounds him. He's half hard already and he sees Alec swallow once before his lips meet Logan's and the world blanks out.

Alec kisses nothing like Logan could've imagined. He's not cocky and half-smart, but not uncertain either, more like he's waiting for something and it's only when Logan sucks in a breath, lips parting that he dives in. One sharp bite on Logan's bottom lip sending fire shooting through his veins and straight to his cock so fast he can't bite back the moan and he feels Alec smile against his mouth.

“Yeah,” he says, voice rough, “that's right.”

“Ale-” the word is swallowed up in another kiss, this one deep and deliberate and rolling over them both in a wave. Alec pulls back to mutter, “I'm guessing you're not the silent type, so if you have to shout something when you come, let's make sure it's not my name, ok? No sense giving them any clues to follow up on.”

His hand doesn't stop working Logan the whole time which is maybe why he loses his mind long enough to say, “Are you _crazy_? I'm not gonna _come_ -”

And Alec grins, razor sharp, which is the moment Logan realizes he just consented.

“Oh babe,” he says, and his eyes are gleaming, voice like sandpaper, “you so totally _are_.”

In a heartbeat he's on his knees, swallowing Logan down in one hot gulp and Logan's head thuds back against the brick. “ _Fuuuck,_ ” he half moans, mind rabbiting between the undoubtedly world-class blow job he's currently receiving and the knowledge that somewhere nearby are more than a few no-neck goons looking for Alec and Logan.

Alec and Logan. Logan and Alec.

“Oh God,” he breathes, trying to get control of himself, and Alec chooses that moment to slid off Logan's cock with a filthy popping noise that makes his vision go white.

“Remember,” he says, breath flowing over wet, hot skin, “no names. Or if you really have to, call me... Andy.” And he's back to work like there’s only one thing on his to do list for today, _make Logan's brains leak out through his ears_.

“I'm not - I can't –” And oh _Christ_ , now comes the suction and something with his tongue that should be illegal, and somewhere he registers a sound - a door maybe, footsteps? - but it couldn't matter in the slightest because the fire is coursing through his veins now, pleasure filling him up and Alec's hands tighten on his hips, a reminder maybe, a light stroke on the underside of his balls and he's gone, just like that, “Oh God, _Andy,_ ” loud and shattered and unashamed as he comes and comes and comes.

When he's conscious again he can feel Alec, still kneeling, hands lightly clasping Logan's hips and head resting against one thigh.

Swallowing, Logan reaches down to grasp his shoulders and drags Alec upright, kissing him with all the pent up adrenaline still coursing through his system. Logan drags his fly open, palms Alec’s hard dick and jerks him ruthlessly, ignoring the muffled voices of the men approaching, the certainty that they'll hear, they'll see if they haven't already.

He leans his head in, forehead pressed against Alec's and grates, “Come for me, _Andy_ , come _for me_ ,” gasps it into his open mouth and then Alec does, body jerking once, eyes closing as he collapses against Logan, biting down hard on his shoulder until Logan knows there'll be a mark there, under his clothes, for days.

They are propped up against one another, still gasping, when Logan hears the scrape of a boot on asphalt accompanied by embarrassed throat clearing. “Ah, get a room would ya?”

Logan looks up, blinking. Dazed. “What?”

“Piss off,” says the shorter of two goons and oh, right. _Goons_. Beyond these two he can see another pair, waiting about twenty yards away, so they've got the entire length of the alley cased.

Alec still hasn’t lifted his head but Logan can feel him react as the furthest pair of thugs say something to one another.

“You're right,” Alec says, suddenly straightening. “We were just, uh, overcome, heat of the moment kind of thing. Come on, rosebud.” He wraps a hand around Logan's wrist and draws him out of the doorway, past the two goons, totally ignoring the fact that they're both still falling out of their jeans, but maybe it's on purpose because the guys look way, wincing, and neither one took much of a look at their faces.

Alec lets go of Logan's hand and starts shoving himself back into his jeans, taking his sweet time about it - unlike Logan - so that he's still in the middle of it, head down by the time they pass the second set of thugs and Logan is left to wonder why they are heading away from his car and toward the warehouse.

“Isn’t this the warehouse-slash-trap we were avoiding?” And it's far easier to breathe a question about _that_ than bring up the white hot interlude they just shared back there.

But Alex is laughing. “What a bunch of morons,” he mumbles as they round the corner. “I absolutely cannot believe this shit.”

“What?”

They walk another ten yards or so and then he stops, tips his head back and stares at the high windows lining the warehouse walls.

“There were five of them,” he says without looking at Logan, “Before. I could hear five of them.”

“Four in the alley,” Logan says, and the light begins to dawn.

“Which means one poor sucker guarding the goods.”

“Wait - they actually brought the food?”

Alec’s nodding. “They hadn't made up their minds yet if they were going to deal or tip off the cops.” He glances over, flashing a quick grin. “Wait here a sec.”

And then he's gone, leaping onto the fire escape in a way that always makes Logan itchy. Admiring, envious, amazed. Whatever. If he spends a lifetime around transgenics (which looks increasingly likely) he's still never gonna get used to that.

He drops his gaze to his sometimes-useless legs and tries to be grateful for what he has. Which, in the last ten minutes, included more sexual action than he’s seen in the past _two years_ so stop your whining, Cale.

He’s still not ready to think about what any of it means. Nope. Far better to stare up at the night sky, then at the brick wall opposite, then up and down the laneway and back up at the sky again. Far, far better.

Alec appears from around the corner about forty-five seconds later, motioning Logan forward and scanning the empty laneway all at once.

“Everything okay?” Logan asks as he rounds the corner and helps push the huge doors all the way open, though he knows full well everything’s fine or Alec wouldn’t have called him over. Oddly protective, these X5s.

“Candy from a baby,” he replies, swinging up into the driver’s seat of a large covered truck. Logan uses the last of his fading energy to push himself up into the high cab. In the side mirror he can see Goon No 5, laid out like sleeping beauty on the cold concrete floor.

A small cache of weapons is shoved his way. Pistols, sawn-off shotguns - Mole’s gonna love that - and a few illegal knives. “Safety’s are on,” Alec says, and shoots a sideways, teasing glance, “you need any instruction?”

“Bite me,” he retorts, then ducks his head as he realizes Alec’s already done that and _then_ some this fine evening. But he doesn’t rise to the bait, though Logan can feel the wiseass grin from here.

“Okay,” Alec says, “down on the floor.”

Logan frowns, not moving and Alec stops, hand on the keys. “Get. Down,” he says, like he’s talking to a sulky five year old.

“What about you?”

“I’m bulletproof, man, we all know this.” Logan doesn’t move and he rolls his eyes. “And I, too, will be keeping out of range once I’ve turned this monster onto the street, so for the love of God, would you g-”

Logan gets down. Crouched on the floor of the truck with a Sig in his hand he tries not to think about how dumb he must look, like a kid trying to sneak into the drive-in.

Why had he argued, anyway? He has firsthand experience of bullets thudding into his flesh and he’s not keen to do that again, _ever_. Then the engine starts and he watches Alec, focused and serious for once, as he floors it and guides them in a wide arc out of the warehouse doors.

The shouts and thud of running feet starts about when you’d expect it to – immediately – and the truck moves about as fast as cold treacle so, yeah, some shots hit the target. He keeps his gaze on Alec, fierce, until he sees the other man slide down so his head is below the rear window. Logan lifts his head just enough to see their pursuers in the side mirror, but none of them are close enough to be a threat and so he safetys the Sig and lays it down on the seat with its siblings. No way he’s going to fire wildly this close to a city street full of civilians.

They bounce out onto the sidewalk and screech into traffic with the requisite flare of angry horns and verbal abuse and then they’re away, Alec laughing like a loon and giving the finger to the traffic behind them.

Logan hauls himself up onto the seat and shakes his head. “You enjoy this insanity way too much.”

“And you don’t enjoy it enough, so I guess between us we get the perfect balance.”

 They turn onto an empty street and Alec digs out a phone, tosses it to Logan. “Call it in, would ya? I doubt they’ve lowjacked the truck but tell Max I’ll check it before I bring it into TC.”

Logan has a mercifully brief conversation with Max. For some not-so-cryptic reason hearing her voice has him excruciatingly aware that the man next to him had his mouth on Logan’s dick not ten minutes ago.

“Okay,” he says, placing the phone on the seat between them. “She seemed not at all shocked that things went south once you were put in charge of the job. If you can get the food to TC – and I’m paraphrasing here – she will be pleasantly surprised.”

“No-one understands the complexity of my layers,” Alec says, pocketing his phone.

“Actually I think they really do,” Logan says with some meaning. Alec totally ignores him. They drive in silence for a few more minutes, turning into progressively emptier streets and leaving the city behind them.

“I can’t drive you all the way home,” Alec says out of the blue, and his voice is extremely casual, which in turn makes Logan extremely tense. “But I can drop you a few blocks away. I’ll send someone to collect the car tomorrow.”

“Drop me home? Why aren’t I coming to Terminal City?”

“You really want Max smelling me all over you?” He says it flat, like it has no consequence for him at all. “Because those enhanced senses we all have? They aren’t just the convenient ones. She’ll know what we did in three seconds flat.”

Logan is left to gape at him, regrouping. For some reason he’d thought they were pretending it never happened. Should have known Alec would always choose to do the thing that most wrong-footed Logan, no matter what it was. “I don’t – uh.”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” Alec’s tone is clipped, and it’s pretty clear Logan has screwed this up without ever saying a word. It’s disappointingly like fighting with a complicated girlfriend, the type who says _if you don’t know what’s wrong then I’m certainly not going to tell you_.

Shit. “I just-”

“Don’t even worry about it,” Alec steamrolls over him. “What happens on tour, right?”

And he pulls over in a darkened street, jumps out of the truck and circles it, running his hands over the sides, pretending to check for a tracer they both know isn’t there. Logan glares out of the windscreen for a few seconds, counting to ten in French and then Spanish, before he slides out onto the street and slams the door shut.

“We’re not far from your place,” Alec says, still crouched by the rear wheel. “You want me to walk you there?”

“I know where we are, Alec, and I don’t need to be walked to my door like a _prom date_ -” He takes a breath and restarts, knowing Alec is _trying_ to piss him off on purpose. “But I’d like to-”

“Great.” Alec straightens, all teeth. “See you around, then.” And he blurs around the truck in a totally unnecessary display of speed.

He is gone before Logan can get another word out, or kick the truck, either one of which would have made him feel a whole lot better than limping home in the dark with semen stains on the front of his jeans and a hickey the size of Wisconsin on his shoulder.

God damn Alec anyway.

 


	2. They Ain't Heavy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He’s so damn good at maintaining the casual façade. No-one would notice anything at all has changed, even Logan can barely spot it.

 

He wakes the next morning and scowls at the clothes he’d dropped on his bedroom floor after stumbling in last night. Laundry is step one for erasing the entire mess from his memory. By lunchtime it’s done and he sinks into a normal routine, preparing lunch and browsing the bank of screens Eddie set up for him in Joshua’s old living room. As usual, his focus is split between possible exclusives for Eyes Only and any new transgenic-related threat.  It’s late evening when Max calls through on the webcam to let him know his car will be delivered sometime tomorrow.

He’s nodding on cue, feeling oddly as though he doesn’t look _right_ somehow, that his voice sounds weird, that he’s standing wrong.

“…food should see us through the next few weeks,” Max was saying when Logan zoned back in. He blinked at the screen and managed a smile.

“That’s, uh. Great news. One less thing to worry about.”

She nods. “We’re still gonna need big scores like that now and then, but we’ve got our secret shopper program in place now,” she rolls her eyes at the domestic details she now seems to have taken on, in addition to commanding an army and oh, _trying to save the world_. “X5s and X6s spreading out over the city buying in small amounts, and there’s a stockpile for emergencies.”

Logan’s listening. He is. But it’s distracting as hell that he can see Alec in the background, pointing at something – a map? – and conducting a low-voiced conversation with Mole and one of the youngest transgenics he’s seen. An X7, by the look.

He shifts in his seat. “And no sign of White?” It’s a matter of pride that he can still stay on task. God knew, he was only useful for the intel side of things.

Max shook her head, slow. “Not yet. My guess? He’s lost face with his freaky cultists. Probably sent to some nuthouse for reprogramming or whatever. They’ll have a new nightmare for us, and soon.”

Logan nods. “Probably. I’ll keep working on translating the runes.”

“Thanks.” She manages a smile and he looks, really looks at her for the first time this conversation. She’s tired. Weighed down by responsibility. But it’s a good look for her, somehow. Softens the edges she’d honed when he first met her. And the ache he always gets when he talks to her, or thinks of her, is a little less. Like the fierce edges of pain are sliding backwards, somehow taking the hooks out of him, just a little.

Maybe they’re just both too damned busy to spare any angst over their enforced separation. They love each other. They know it. It just can’t happen, that’s all.

“You’re doing a good job,” he says suddenly, and she blinks. Then smiles, rueful and not believing. “You _are_.”

And something of his intensity must get through, because she hesitates, staring back at him for a second. Then she says softly, ducking her head. “Thanks.”

He just nods.

“I’ll talk to you later.”

“Later,” she says, and as she reaches up to turn off the camera Alec glances in his direction. For just a second their eyes meet, and it’s enough to keep him awake all night, aching and aroused and confused as shit.

* * *

 

“So, uh,” Logan says, trying hard not to think about the fact that he has, at some point, had his tongue in the mouth of the majority of people in the room.

 _That was weeks ago, Cale_. _Old news_. “I asked you guys over here to talk about some, uh, business.”

“The board of Transgenics, Inc. convenes for its monthly meeting,” Alec mocks, and there’s a tiny edge to his voice no-one else seems to be hearing, not even Joshua, which is weird. The dog-man’s hearing is unbelievably acute.

“This has been a while in the making,” Logan says, determined to keep his cool. “Since before you ended up back at Manticore, Max.”

She raises her eyebrows. “I thought all your,” she does the air quotes, “‘business interests’ died a sudden death along with your uncle.”

“Not quite.” Then he hesitates, glancing at the only silent member in the room. “Actually, I should probably – Joshua, I’m not sure how much you know about my, well, my family…”

He can see Max and Alec exchange a glance but he keeps his focus on Joshua. It might be the only way he can do this and not have a total and utter freakout at the whole _Max and Alec_ _in the same room as Logan_ thing. Avoidance had gotten him this much breathing room, now it was time to suck it u- no, bad choice of words.

“Logan rolling in it, back in the day,” Joshua says in his unfailingly dry way, then drops into one of his uncanny mimics, “Logan could be my sugar daddy any day.”

Alec snorts his coffee across the table and Logan is trying very hard not to recognize the voice which was, tragically, a dead ringer for Sketchy.

“ _Joshua_!” Max is scandalized, then immediately softens as she sees the confusion surface. “No, big fella, that’s not, um, cool to say-”

Alec is just openly laughing, no help at all, and Logan can’t quite hold back the grin. “Um?” he says, partly just to tease Max a little more.

“I think you can assume Joshua knows enough,” she replies, rolling her eyes, which Logan takes to mean _transgenics gossip like old women, just like everyone else_. It’s kind of reassuring.

“Okay,” he shakes his head and refocuses on the folders in front of him. “Well, suffice it to say I used to have a great deal more money than I could ever spend. When I met Max, I was using some of it to fund Eyes Only, of course, but as soon as I realized the rumors I’d heard about transgenics were true, and that Max was looking for her fellow escapees, I knew this was going to be bigger than anything I’d encountered before.”

“You couldn’t give a girl a heads up she was going to be outed and start a revolution?”

He shakes his head. “No crystal ball, sorry. But the one thing I did guess right was that we were probably going to need a better network for smuggling people out of harm’s way. I mean, Eyes Only had enough contacts to handle the occasional witness that needed to get to Canada or Mexico, get some fake IDs now and then. But that was pretty much it. So I started putting out feelers, and then,” he hesitates, then shrugs. “After Zac.”

Max flinches, just a little, and Alec’s eyes flick to her face, then away.

“Well, I thought I should get serious.” Logan reaches for one of the folders in front of him and flips it open. “I started a company.”

“You did _what_?” That’s Alec, sitting forward in his chair for the first time.

“I converted half my shares into a mix of gold and cash, and assigned those assets to a company. It had a staff of one, a private investigator from New York who spent the next few months searching for real estate that fit my parameters. Once he’d found them I chose three and started the purchasing process, although it’s taken a long time to finalize because I eventually decided to buy each property through a separate, unconnected trust, and disguise ownership through a different series of shell companies. Of course, all of that took time to set up, but I wanted to be certain I’d covered my tracks in case my own connection to the transgenic cause is ever-”

He’s talking freely for the first time that day, but when he looks up he realizes he has completely lost his audience. The three faces across the table are mouth-open-staring at him like he had just squeezed orange juice out of his ears and started a blazing fire in his underwear.

“Logan bought something?” Joshua finally says.

“Sounds like,” Max murmurs.

Alec scrubs a hand over his face and finally decides to take this stuff seriously. “What ‘parameters’, exactly?”

“Farms,” Logan says, puts his fingers on the map tucked under the second folder and slides it across the table to Alec. He stills as Alec flattens a hand beside his, not touching. It’s a frozen moment, then he draws the map away, from beneath Logan’s fingertips. It unfolds enough to cover half the table and all three transgenics sit up, taking note. They’re happier with geography than accounting, any day.

“I figured, any more than a couple of people needing to hide, long term, then a farm would give us privacy for a start, and some measure of self-sufficiency to boot in terms of food.”

“Second,” he continues, watching Alec’s fingers spread out beside the first circle on the map, _those clever fingers_ , “I wanted a place with more than the usual chance of concealment.” Green eyes met his. “I was watching a documentary on the Underground Railroad when I got the idea.”

“Slaves,” Joshua says, and every head turns toward him. He’s nodding sadly, one huge finger tracing a route through Illinois, Indiana and Ohio.

For a moment they’re all silent. Then Max looks up from the map. “You bought three farms?”

Logan nods.

“But.” She’s blinking at him. “You’re _broke_.” She waves a hand at their surroundings – Joshua’s crappy former abode. “I watched you sell your art collection last year to stay afloat.”

“ _I’m_   broke, yes. But this company,” he taps the folder again, “has plenty of capital.”

“But it’s _your_ company.”

“I’m the only director at present. Yes.”

“So – you have money.”

He shakes his head. “I transferred it all to the company. I still have enough to get by.”

She sits back in her chair, marveling, and when he lets himself glance sideways at Alec, he, too is staring at Logan. All three transgenics are staring, actually, and then they exchange a series of glances, full of a meaning Logan can’t quite decipher.

“Not even the drunkest campfire story came close,” Alec says, shaking his head.

Finally, Max’s lips twitch and she gives a little headshake. “Who would believe it,” she mutters.

When Alec speaks his voice is flat. “You seriously – you gave all your money away to create emergency housing for escaped transgenics.”

“I didn’t give it away,” Logan defends, “I invested it. And let’s not forget, Eyes Only could have need of a safehouse one of these days. It’s as much for my benefit as-”

“You are absolutely _unbelievable_ ,” Alec says, shaking his head and throwing his hands up.

“Logan,” Max says, more gently, “this is amazingly generous. But it doesn’t seem right-”

“Look,” he says, suddenly impatient and embarrassed all at once, “I didn’t call you here to discuss whether this idea has merit or not. It’s already established. I’ve done it. I called you guys here to make sure it doesn’t go to waste.”

“Now all of this was finally finished about two months ago but with all the stuff going on with White, and…” _all the tragedies_ , he doesn’t say. Annie, Biggs, CeCe and the others, they’re still raw memories for every person in this room. “With everything else that was going on, I didn’t have time to bring you guys in on it. Anyway.”

“My point is, when I set all this up, transgenics were still just a crazy rumor, and you were all living on the run. Now, the world knows you exist. I think that the three of you should be listed as directors in this company.”

This is greeted by the blankest silence Logan has ever heard.

“I’m sorry, _what_ did you say?” Alec recovers first, and he’s about to be his usual pain in the ass self.

“Logan-” Max begins.

“Directors? Like Spielberg?” Joshua asks.

“The world already knows you exist,” Logan says simply. “Sooner or later they’ll have to determine you are citizens.”

“Yeah, but we’re still _wanted fugitives_.”

“Doesn’t mean you can’t own property.”

“Actually I think maybe it does,” Alec says.

Logan shakes his head, stubborn. “Look, I’ve already left everything to you in my will, this is no different-”

“ _You’ve made a will_?”

“Left it to _who_?”

“Yes, _of course_ I’ve made a will,” Logan half-shouts, seriously testy now. “It’s the responsible thing to do.”

“How the hell did you even identify-”

“I used your JamPony covers.” He glances at Joshua. “Sorry, Joshua. At the time I couldn’t figure out how to identify you. Your birth wouldn’t appear on any public records. Although my lawyer now thinks maybe I could just enclose a copy of your fingerprints in with my will and they could use those to validate-”

“Logan,” Max breaks in, and there’s real strain in her voice, “this is all incredibly generous, but we can’t let you do any of this.”

He raises his eyebrows. “I’d like to see how exactly you propose to stop me.”

“Not with logic, obviously,” Alec mutters, “ _since you seem to be immune_.”

“Look,” he says, suddenly sick of the whole conversation. “The whole point of me getting you guys here was to make sure these preparations don’t go to waste. You were talking about stockpiling food for an emergency, Max,” he turned to her, “and that’s what reminded me. These are contingency plans,” he nods at the map. “And I need to know that if anything goes wrong, there are people who’ll know what to do.”

“Logan,” she throws up her hands, “this is way beyond preparing a first aid kit and having an emergency set of papers stashed in a drainpipe.”

“I asked you guys here,” he said softly, “because I feel like all of this started with us. The four of us.”

And that silences even Alec.

“The whole point of a safehouse is that it’s secret. I know that you have to delegate now,” he looks at Max, “that the situation in TC means that you have to trust a wider circle of people with things, and that’s fine, that’s,” he shrugs, “the way it has to be. But these.”

He waves a hand at the two circles in the US, one circle in Canada. “These are our Ark. They have to be kept up our sleeve. If something bad happens here in Seattle-”

“One airstrike away from extinction, Mole says.” And somehow the words are more chilling because they come from Joshua. They all sit, frozen, for a moment, and then Max puts her small hand over his paint-flecked one.

“Not if we see them coming, we’re not,” Logan says.

They wrangle around for about another half-hour. But somehow the heat of their argument has vanished with Joshua’s words. Both of them. Max and her snark, Alec and his don’t-give-a-shit-attitude, both of them _of course_ knuckle under the moment they see a chance to protect their family.

And by lunchtime Logan has their signatures – all three of them – on the paperwork. They depart in a tight little pod, and he’s well aware they’re going to be talking about him for a long time yet.

He gives in, finally, to the ball of heat in his belly and lingers by the window, watching Alec’s ass as he walks, flanking Joshua as they head for the nearest underground access point. It doesn’t dawn on him until three hours later that _Max’s_ ass was also on offer, on Joshua’s other side, and he _hadn’t even noticed_.

 

* * *

 

“…why don’t you come on over? Mole and Eddie have managed to rebuild a pool table from parts we salvaged. You could scam everyone out of their pickings and then book on out of here, safe from reprisals.” Max gives him one of her rare, wide grins and he smiles back on automatic.

Behind her Alec clatters down the stairs, glancing once toward the screen with a casual ‘hey’ and a lifted hand. He’s so damn good at maintaining the casual façade. No-one would notice anything at all has changed, even _Logan_ can barely spot it. But his glances skitter past Logan without touching. His smiles are a degree cooler than they were. The tone in his voice has lost its depth.

And Logan’s pretty friggin fed up with it.

“Thanks,” he says, and the words emerge without any thought from him. “But I’m meeting up with an old buddy of mine. Andy,” he adds, just as Alec shifts to step out of the web cam’s range. He halts, for just a second, the merest interruption of his normal fluid movement. But Logan sees it. Sees the half-second turn of his head in Logan’s direction.

“Your loss,” Max says. “Talk to you tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow,” Logan says, and this time he turns off his camera before she can. He leans back in his chair and lifts his eyes to the waterstained ceiling.

_What did I just do?_

He lets out a huge breath and has to admit he has no answer for that and, for once in his life, he has absolutely no motivation to figure it out, either.

 


	3. D.R.E.A.M.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alec might lie to everyone else on this earth, but he tries to lie to himself as little as possible. He’s possessive. Always has been.  
> Well, ever since Manticore burned anyway. Hadn’t had anything to call his own before that except maybe a shit-ton of psychological baggage.

 

 

The shower is running, Alec can hear it from the street. He hesitates - _maybe I won’t go in -_ then laughs at himself. Yeah, right.  As if he’d pass up this chance. More than a year of hiding and scamming his way through life, giving Logan shit every time they spoke, stomping on the sharp heat that sprang up every time he saw the other man. And now…

He clears the fence and half-jogs through the yard, scanning for hazards on automatic. The same ingrained habit means he doesn’t use the front door, or the back. Instead he jimmies the window of the second bedroom and slides inside, silent. There is of course, also the chance that he just likes to have the upper hand in any given situation…

Logan apparently doesn’t sing in the shower. Or maybe just not tonight. Long hours have passed since he issued the invitation, after all.

Alec pauses in the bathroom doorway and takes in the sight. At Logan’s old penthouse apartment the environment would have been acres of gleaming tile and mirror. Here it’s damp grey walls and a chipped bathtub.

And damn if Logan doesn’t look delicious anyway.

He arranges himself with one foot kicked across the other, leaning against the wall, carefully casual and says, “Somebody order a pizza?”

Logan freezes. Then he turns, hands slicking his hair back off his face, soap bubbles sliding south and his face unreadable. He blinks, the familiar glasses gone and it hits Alec that the other man probably can’t see much. His stomach settles a little at the thought. But only a little.

“I thought you weren’t coming.” Logan finally speaks.

Alec raises his hands, palm out. “I’m not playing games, I swear.” Best to get that out in the open right away. Because he knows exactly what Logan thinks of him. And he’s mostly right. Alec earned his name fair and square. He _is_ a pain in the ass, and he does it on purpose most of the time. But not this. He wouldn’t have-

“I was on my way here when I stumbled across some newbies on their way to Terminal City.”

Logan tips his head back under the spray, still looking at Alec, who shrugs.

“Had to guide those baby birds into the nest, y’know?”

Logan just nods. Shampoo is sliding further down his body, a few stray streams tracking down his torso instead of his back, arrowing toward his groin and the erection that’s been there since before Alec made his appearance.

Alec figures the apologies/explanations part of the evening is done. Time for business.

He raises an eyebrow. “Now I’ve got to say, I’m kind of in two minds here. I don’t know whether to make some kind of declaration that all of this real estate is mine.” He makes a sweeping gesture at at Logan’s cock and a part of him is screaming _yes_ at the thought, “Or whether I’d rather see you take care of business while I watch.”

“And I presumably don’t get a vote,” Logan says, and his voice is carefully even. But Alec can see his cock twitching. “I don’t know. I’m thinking maybe, since you were late, that you owe _me_ -”

“Fine.” And by the time Logan stops talking, Alec has stepped over the rim of the tub and into the stream of water, his hands cupping Logan’s face, kissing him like a long lost lover returning after the war.

It’s different, this time. He’s been invited. Logan _wants_ him here, at least on some level, it’s not Alec trying his luck on impulse, half expecting a punch in the face. Maybe this is a pity hump, or the bitter sting of loneliness pushing Logan to these extremes, whatever it is, Alec isn’t going to let any part of this chance go to waste.

He breathes in, lifting his head just a fraction and the scent of Logan swamps him. God damn if that particular essence hasn’t been haunting him lately. Could smell traces of it on Joshua last week when he came back from a visit, and just yesterday surrounding him in the damn truck they’ve decided to keep.

“I’m sorry I kept you waiting,” he murmurs, even though they covered this already.

Oddly, Logan grins. “Isn’t anticipation supposed to heighten sensation?”

“Even at a moment like this you talk like an overeducated WASP,” Alec mutters, and licks into Logan’s mouth. The tiny sound that elicits seems to arrow straight to his groin and he slides his hands down Logan’s throat and just keeps on going.

“I _am_ an overedu-”

“I know,” Alec says, and drags his nails over warm, wet skin. “And I’m guessing your hot water supply is no better than ours, so…”

“We should both shut up.” And Logan is dragging the wet t-shirt up over his head with the usual amount of difficulty. It hits the wall with a plop and slides down to the floor as Alec palms Logan’s dick, loving the sucked-in breath that follows.

Their eyes lock.

Faces only inches apart, Alec stares unblinking as he works Logan slowly, rhythmic, taking his sweet goddam time and watching the flush of blood spread from his face to his throat and down to his chest. Cool, contained Logan Cale, going to pieces under Alec’s hands.

It’s quite a rush, and there’s no hiding the effect it has on him. Logan shifts just enough to take advantage of the furious erection Alec is sporting inside his soaking wet pants. His wet thigh slides in and out, pressing against Alec’s crotch in time with the strokes on his dick and they’re both panting now, Logan reaching out to cup his chin, drag him forward for a kiss.

“Oh God,” Logan manages, voice tight, and his eyes close. For just a second Alec wants to force his attention back – _look at me_ – as the ugly thought springs up.

Who is Logan thinking of?

“Oh _God_ ,” Logan says again, gasping. Not a name. Not even an endearment.

Alec bites his lip and closes down those thoughts, forcing all his focus onto Logan, head thrown back, water sluicing down his face as he gasps, shudders, and comes in a rush.

For a moment they sway together in the spray and then the temperature registers. Yup. Hot water’s gone.

He reaches out with one hand and turns the faucet, still bearing some of Logan’s weight. “Come on,” he says, dropping a casual kiss on those red, well-kissed lips. “Bed.”

He sounds totally normal. Well, husky, because, you know - _turned on_ \- but not at all worried by anything. He’s a master at the art of bullshitting, defending regional champ and there’s no way Logan’s going to ever know about the nasty roiling in his gut.

And if Logan _is_ pretending he’s with Max when he closes his eyes, well, Alec has pretended a lot of utterly shitty things for worse reasons, he can do this too. He stomps on that thought for the last fucking time and half-drags Logan out of the tub. He flings a towel around the other man and grinds up against him, at least one erection still requiring some attention here.

Logan’s mouth opens over his and the kiss takes him totally by surprise. Who the hell woulda guessed Eyes Only had a tongue that talented?

“I want to,” he finally pants into Logan’s mouth, “I want to-” and then he’s blinking, poleaxed by surprise because _it’s the_ _truth_.

 _He wants to_. Can’t remember the last time this was about something he really _wanted_ , instead of an easy way to fill the night, or a way to get information, or even just needing a warm place to sleep.

“Yes,” Logan is saying, no doubt wondering why Alec is frozen in place. “Just, yes.” And they’re stumbling into the bedroom, falling onto the bed splayed out and messy, half laughing at their own gracelessness.

Alec turns Logan onto his stomach and places a hand on his shoulder, trying to make it clear just what it is he wants to do, since he can’t seem to find his words anymore. And Logan just takes a shuddering breath, face pressed into a pillow as he nods. A heartbeat later he turns his head. “I’ve never.”

Alec doesn’t flinch at the phrase, but he really wants to. That’s not a game he will ever be able to play.

 _I’ve never_.

Because he has. _Jesus_. He’s done it all, and then some. Not because he wanted to – his encyclopedic sexual history is almost entirely against his own inclinations. But Manticore had sure as shit made sure he’d tried everything.

But it answers some of the questions he’s been obsessing over. Because Logan wasn’t as twitchy as you’d expect the average straight guy to be, back in that alley. He’d experimented at some point. Probably college. But now Alec knew he’d gone no further.

Alec draws in a deep, silent breath. Then forces himself to say it. “Are you sure. Because we don’t have to-”

He nods.

“Logan, are you _sure_.”

“ _Yes_.” And he sounds pissy instead of nervous, which has Alec snorting with laughter. Okay, then. And he bends and presses a kiss to the nape of Logan’s neck, hot and open mouthed. There’s a low hum of approval then and Alec smiles against warm, wet skin.

“I’m gonna make it good, babe,” he murmurs, only then remembering that he’s still wearing his soaking wet pants and boots. Swearing, he wrestles his way out of the clothes, ignoring Logan’s sly smile as he watches, but he manages to retain enough brain power to grab the condom and lube out of one pocket before he tosses the clothing aside.

He straddles Logan’s legs, staring down at the expanse of skin, gleaming wet in the light streaming in from the bathroom. He’s beautiful. Logan might not be X5-fit, but his upper body is gorgeous and Alec takes a long, steadying breath. His eyes track down to the scars at the small of his back and for just a moment he freezes. Geez. It’s so easy to forget.

He reaches out a careful hand and lays it beside the scars.

Logan goes very still and Alec recoils, hand hovering. “Does it hurt?”

He shakes his head, wordless.

“Do you feel anything?”

There’s a pause, and he feels like a dick for asking. Before he can take it back or make it worse Logan says, “Not for a long time. But since the transfusions… sometimes.”

Alec is staring down at the mess and suddenly he bends, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to the scars. Logan’s shoulders tighten and he quickly moves away, not sure just how much he’s allowed, there. Far easier to drift back up and breathe into Logan’s ear, letting his erection press into the other man’s hip.

“I’ve been thinking about this for a while now,” he murmurs, and he hears Logan swallow. “And to tell you the truth, I can’t wait any longer.”

“Then _don’t_ ,” Logan grinds into the pillow and Alec grins, snicking open the lube and coating his fingers.

“Sir, yes sir,” he mocks.

“Oh God,” Logan huffs, and he doesn’t need to see the eye-roll.

Alec nudges his legs with a knee and Logan parts readily, though his hands clench into fists. One finger slides inside and Logan lets out a long, shaky breath. “Okay?” Alec says, voice low and rough.

Logan just nods.

He leans in and kisses the top of Logan’s spine again, lets his tongue snake out and work its way down that line of warm skin, hearing the quickening of breath that tells him they both like it. He smiles and drifts to the side, biting gently on the flesh below the shoulder blade, and as Logan lets out a little moan he slides the second finger in.

“Okay?” he says again and this time Logan lifts his head.

“Stop _asking_ me if I’m _okay_ and just _get on with it_.”

And Alec laughs, fingers curling just slightly in reaction and Logan lets out a gasp. “Impatient,” he chides, tut-tutting. He scissors his fingers a little more and slides in a third finger.

“I’m not gonna ask,” he murmurs, leaning forward so his words drift over Logan’s shoulder blade. “But if you’re uncomfortable at any time just say… watermelon.” He’s grinning like a maniac, just enjoying this so damn much, having fun with it for once, despite the low burn in his stomach that tells him he’s gonna completely lose his shit in a few short minutes.

But oh, what a ride it’s gonna be.

He uses his free hand to grab another pillow – somehow in this shithole world Logan has managed to score two actual pillows. Probably Dalton, that kid has unbelievable talents for procurement. He slides the pillow under Logan’s hips and takes the opportunity to gently fondle his balls as he bites that exact spot where throat and shoulder meet. Logan’s dick is showing signs of renewed interest. He’s moving his fingers now, opening Logan gently and judging by the noises the other man’s making, he’s got no objections.

“It’s gonna be so good, babe,” he murmurs, the words sneaking out without thought. “ _So good._ ”

“Yes,” Logan gasps. And, “Yes,” again. He’s pushing back against Alec now and damn, he just can’t wait any longer and he draws his fingers out, grabbing for the condom and shoving it on, way past asking _okay_ anymore, he’s got to get inside Logan, has to have that tight heat and the pressure and he grasps his hips, lines himself up as Logan pushes onto his hands and knees.

“Logan-”

“ _Yes._ ”

And Alec is home. Oh God. So tight, so hot and it’s more than he ever dreamed. “ _Logan_ ,” the moan is long and low, drawn out of him and he bites his lip, breathing deep, finding his customary control. “Oh babe,” he says when he’s steady again, and he closes his eyes and starts to move.

It’s a blinding climb of heat and pressure, starting slow-slow-slow, too damn slow to stand for long. He wants it to last all night but his famous control is slipping beyond reach and his movements gather pace, the friction lighting up every inch of him. The frantic slap of skin against skin, Logan’s moans and Alec’s gasps fill the room and at some point he reaches around, grabbing hold of Logan newly-hard cock, hearing the other man cry out, sharp and fierce and Alec can feel his orgasm start from that sound alone.

He slams home harder, lungs burning from the effort of holding it all in, fist tightening around Logan and the pace increases, impossibly fast, breath coming in gasps and Logan sobbing his name in an endless stream. Then the white storm breaks over him and he arches, body a solid wall of pleasure, pouring into Logan and his fist twists, tightens until Logan clenches around him, a broken cry wrenched from his throat as he comes.

Alec is gasping shallow breaths into Logan’s nape when he’s able to think again. The other man is breathing, so the intensity hasn’t killed either one of them. That’s a bonus.

“Oh God,” he manages, pulls out and rolls off, one hand still splayed over Logan’s back. _Mine_.

Alec might lie to everyone else on this earth, but he tries to lie to himself as little as possible. He’s possessive. Always has been.

Well, ever since Manticore burned anyway. Hadn’t had anything to call his own before that except maybe a shit-ton of psychological baggage.

And as long as Logan doesn’t know he’s been claimed by a transgenic head-case, what’s the harm?

“Good God,” he finally says into the silence. His voice is super-casual, mind racing at the speed of light. Logan’s thinking too, that great big brain of his never really switches off – _except when my mouth is on his dick_ , the sly thought comes – and Alec’s gonna have to work hard to get ahead of the guy.

The real question is – is there about to be a big gay freakout, or not?

The muscles of Logan’s back under his hand are pliant, not stiff and so he takes a risk, because fuck it, that’s just who he is. “I don’t know about you,” he says, “but I’m thinking I’d like to do that again. Often.”

There’s a pause, and his heart rate hits the kind of speed he usually gets from running hills while being shot at. Then Logan rolls over, Alec’s hand trailing across warm skin until it rests on a hip.

“What, no spooning?” He lifts an eyebrow but his eyes are wary.

“I can snuggle with the best of ‘em, man,” Alec says, a grin starting. “I just wanted to check I wasn’t about to get punched in the balls.”

“ _I_ invited _you_ here, if you remember.” Logan’s still watchful, not at all deceived by the fake grin that’s beaten many a suspicious eye. He knows Alec is maneuvering. Damn, the guy is _smart_ and it’s just one more attractive trait in an already long list.

“People can still have regrets. Trust me, I know,” he says, trying for wryly experienced but Logan’s face shuts down and he glances away.

 _Shit_. Ok. Don’t go there.

“No regrets,” Logan’s voice is carefully bland. “I knew what I was doing.”

“But?”

“But what?” He glances back.

“There’s a ‘but’ in there somewhere.” And then he smirks, because he truly is an asshole, and slides a hand around to squeeze Logan’s _ass_ ets. “I distinctly remember.”

Logan’s lips twitch. “That’s honestly the best you can come up with?”

Alec shrugs, eyes half-closing as he palms that nice firm ass. “It’s afterglow man, whaddya want? You’re lucky I still have the power of speech at all.”

“Lucky isn’t the word that comes to mind when we’re talking about that smart mouth of y-” he murmurs, and Alec can’t resist that, he slides closer for a kiss.

It’s slow and languid, a _hello-remember-and-oh-yeah-so-good_ kind of kiss and when he finally draws back Logan’s eyes are soft.

“Yes.”

Alec raises his eyebrows, makes sure his breathing is under control before he repeats, “Yes?”

“Yes. I’d like to do that again.”

This time the grin that spreads over his fast is swift and real. “ _Outstanding_ ,” he says, and kisses Logan again.

He forces himself out of bed and into the bathroom for as long as it takes to dump the condom and retrieve Logan’s glasses. Some part of him wants the memory of Logan Cale, naked except for the glasses, warm from Alec’s kisses.

“Alec,” Logan says slowly as he climbs back onto the bed.

“Yeah?” His voice is excruciatingly casual, every inch of skin a-quiver in warning at that tone from the older man.

“I-” and he stops as Alec slides the glasses back on.

“What?” Alec whispers. That face, those goddam glasses, he’s drinking in his fill.

He blinks a few more times. Then says quietly, “I don’t share.”

And for one second, Alec honest to God doesn’t get it. Then he draws in a long, slow breath, disguising the punch of hurt. “Right.”

Yeah, _of course_. We have to spell that out. Because Alec, it’s widely known, is a _player_ , and fucks anything that crosses his path-

He leans back, easy, and blinks a few more times while he tries to get his inner monologue under control.

 _Not_ Logan’s fault. Just _not_ the guy’s fault. He’s operating on the only information he has. On the stuff he’s seen at Crash, on Alec’s own big fat mouth…

“All right,” he says, as simple as he can. If he starts talking about this stuff god knows what he’ll unload.

“All right?” Logan’s brow wrinkles.

Okay. _Maybe I gave that up too easy_.

Then he narrows his eyes behind those damn glasses, considering Alec carefully and therein lies a shedload of danger.

“Logan,” he says, leaning forward until his words are puffs of air on the other man’s mouth, “I could see that coming a mile away. Do you honestly think I hadn’t thought far enough ahead to know that you were that kind of guy?”

Those blue eyes are half-closed. “Oh.” He nudges forward just slightly, lips bumping feather light. Then draws back. He’s a damn hard man to distract. “I’m serious, though. Alec.”

“I get it,” he says, chasing that feather-touch again. “And I promise. No singles bars. No one-nighters. No friends-with-benefits, no workplace romances, no hookups with exes, no-”

“Would you _shut_ _up_ ,” Logan moans, pressing up into his mouth and rolling him over into the mattress.

Long minutes pass and the petting continues, he’s learning Logan’s body just as Logan is learning his. The sensitive skin under Logan’s jaw and that spot where Alec’s barcode should be. Logan’s back, immune to strong strokes but a shivering feast after a series of tiny, soft bites. Alec, biting back an involuntary moan as Logan’s hands grip his, thumbs stroking across the palms, working his wrists.

Finally Alec reminds himself firmly that tonight was Logan’s first time, that in the current situation they are basically fucking in the middle of a minefield, and it’s up to him to do the hard yards and make the tough calls.

So he rolls out from under Logan, even knowing that position is going to make no difference with this guy, there’s no question of let-me-tell-you-how-it’s-gonna-be here. But it’s instinctive, to try for the upper hand.

“So,” he says, braced on hands and knees over Logan, praying this will go the right way. For all their sakes. “Much as I’d like to, I can’t stay.”

Logan nods. No argument on that point, they both understand Alec’s somehow become one of the stabilizing forces _oh my god the fucking irony_ in Terminal City.

“I’ll come back when I can. Okay?”

Another nod. There’s no way it’s going to keep on being this easy. “Call first,” Logan suggests, and then his lips twitch. Alec raises his brows.

“You gonna get yourself ready for me, rosebud?”

There’s a flare of heat in Logan’s eyes, but he says, “Maybe I just want to check the area is secure, no weird police activity.”

Alec laughs, knowing the guy means every word. He wants to protect _Alec_. How adorable is that? “The Eyes Only Quilting Group, looking out for the safety of transgenics everywhere.”

“Screw y-” the words are muffled against Alec’s mouth.

“Been there, done that,” he whispers. They stare at one another for a minute, then he nips at Logan’s bottom lip before straightening to sit back on his heels. Time to say it. And then deal with the fallout.

“I’m gonna take a shower,” he says, and glances sideways at Logan. “And you should change the sheets.”

Logan’s eyebrows shoot up. “Right now? Don’t tell me you’re some kind of hygiene-” The words grind to a halt as he gets it. Completely gets it, first time. _You really want Max smelling me all over you?_

Logan sits up slowly, all amusement fled. Then rolls off the bed, pulls on some sweatpants and picks up a shirt.

Alec just sits there on his heels, waiting. Nudity has never made him feel _naked_. Manticore simply never supplied the option to the few soldiers in his particular specialty.

Logan starts speaking while he’s still facing the wall, tugging on the shirt. “You want to keep what we’re doing a secret.”

“We have to.”

He finally turns, his face stiff, shoulders drawn up. He leans back against the old wardrobe that came with the house, and wraps his arms around himself. Textbook body language of a man who’s felt that first lick of hurt and is expecting a boatload more.

Alec’s gut is churning to see that, and he doesn’t need to be psychic to know Max’s face is in Logan’s mind right now. And despite all reason, despite being braced for it, knowing it was inevitable, he just _can’t fucking stand_ that thought. So he diverts it.

“Terminal City is balanced on a knife’s edge,” he says. The socio-political stuff is always gonna make sense to Logan. And maybe he can have his cake and eat it too if they just avoid the personal – the _Max-related_ – stuff.

“You were there at JamPony. You saw how close it came to collapsing. The wrong choice at the wrong moment and it all turns to shit in a heartbeat.”

Logan blinks. His hands loosen just a fraction.

“The next year or so is a tightrope walk for us. Every single one of us has to have our head in the game.”

He lets it sit for a moment, giving the guy a chance to think.

“I lie to people all the time,” Logan finally says. “I hide my Eyes Only work from people who trust me with their lives. And I’ve never gotten used to how it feels.”

“You do it to protect them.”

“That doesn’t make me feel any better.”

“What I’m saying is, the lie isn’t for your benefit. It’s for theirs. You’re not lying because you’ve embezzled money or committed a murder or tried to get elected. They’re safer if they don’t know who you are.”

Logan sends him a chiding look. “And so am I.”

“Well, if you don’t keep yourself safe, you can’t get the job done,” Alec says, exasperated. Only _Logan Cale_ could feel guilty over wanting to feel safe while volunteering for a dirty, dangerous fight. “Which is exactly my point. The job is more important than people’s feelings.”

That hits home, he can see it register, and right then he decides to let it simmer. Logan’s the kind of guy who’ll always put others first. Can’t help himself. So naturally Alec, who’s the exact opposite, is gonna exploit that for all he’s worth. He tries not to linger on the bitter taste.

He vanishes into the bathroom and when he emerges, his soaking wet clothes are draped over the doorknob. He stares at them.

Normally Logan would have offered dry clothes of his own. He draws in a deep breath and closes his eyes.

They’re gonna do this. They’re actually gonna do this. The breath shudders out of his lungs and he nods, not yet able to smile through the dizzying relief. He’d wanted this a lot more than he’d ever admitted to himself, which was bad news.

Of course, not bad news enough for him to walk away. He might be an asshole, but he’s not an _idiot._

 


	4. Sub-Radar Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He pulls on some clothes, covering up all that divine skin, and Logan swallows. If the X5 ever works out just how much his physical presence affects Logan, he’ll be able to win every damn argument they could ever have just by taking off his shirt.

 

“I have to tell her,” Logan says, and blinks in surprise to hear the words come out of his mouth.

Alec freezes, one hand flattening on Logan’s torso. “What?”

“I have to tell her,” he repeats, and this time there’s thought behind the words, not just instinct.

“No,” Alec says, and sits up. “No, you do _not_.”

He just looks at the transgenic. He’s not going to spend all night doing this back and forth crap. Maybe he hadn’t thought it all the way through before he spoke, but it feels right.

“Logan,” he says carefully, “think about this.”

“I have thought about it. And I’m not going to lie to her.”

“Keeping your private life to yourself-”

“I’m not asking your permission, Alec. I’m going to tell her.”

There’s silence and then Alec lets out an explosive sigh, sliding out of bed. He pulls on some clothes, covering up all that divine skin, and Logan swallows, feels his heart rate even out. He has to work damn hard to keep up a front around Alec, if the X5 ever works out just how much his physical presence affects Logan, he’ll be able to win every damn argument they could ever have just by taking off his shirt.

Alec is shaking his head. “I have a say in this too, you know.” And his glare pins Logan in place. “I’m connected to her just as much as you are.”

Logan sits up, leaning against the pillows as he considers this. Damn. That actually sounds reasonable. Now he’s wishing he had put on some pants, like _that’d_ somehow win the argument for him. “All right,” he says finally. “I’ll tell her I’m seeing someone. I won’t tell her it’s you. That part is your decision.”

 

* * *

 

“I need to talk to you.”

“Sure,” she says, face open, calm. “Shoot.”

“Alone would be better,” he tries to match her casual tone. Sure, sometimes he can feel the others watching them, everyone knowing about the not-so-secret mess that is their ill-fated love affair. But they don’t need to put up neon signs.

Her eyebrows flick, just a hint, and then she’s on her feet. He follows her silently through some corridors, Terminal City is still just as much of a rabbit warren as ever and he’s never gonna be entirely sure where he is. It’s just one more way to feel inadequate in this community of warriors, and he tries not to linger on it overmuch.

By the time they’re outside on some kind of observation deck he’s nervous and so is she. This isn’t the way their dealings have gone, past few months. It’s been all strictly business.

“I, um. I’m not sure how exactly to, uh.” And he stalls. For all his bravado with Alec the other night, he’s suddenly at a loss, looking over at Max’s beautiful, familiar face.

“Are you okay?” she asks, low note of concern he hasn’t heard in a long time and maybe that’s why he says what he does.

“I love you, Max.”

She stills.

“You know that, right?”

And that rare look of softness washes over her face. Max is always amazed that anyone could care, something she and Alec have in common. His stomach churns a little at that - never going to be comfortable with comparisons between the two of them.

“Yeah,” she replies, her eyes liquid and soft with emotion. “I know.”

He swallows and blunders on. “I-” He takes a shaky breath and tries again, reaches for a truth he hasn’t let himself think about lately. “I think I’m always going to feel that way about you. No matter what.”

And now she’s frowning, just the tiniest wrinkle, but something in his voice has given him away.

“Logan, what’s going on?”

He turns to stare out across the water. “When everything was happening – at JamPony, and here at Terminal City…” he shrugs. “I was so sure we would figure something out. It seemed inevitable. We’d find a cure. Some way around it. But.”

“But we haven’t,” she says softly.

“We’re not even close.”

She shakes her head, and even with only peripheral vision he can see the guilt on her features. “There’s just so much to do-”

“No, Max,” he turns toward her. “That’s not what I-”

“I just seem to endlessly run from job to job, and I know I should-”

“Max, I’m not blaming you-” he begins, reaching out automatically to clasp her arm and she flinches back, takes three full steps as his hand closes on empty air.

They stare at one another in shock. _So close_.

He jams a hand into his hair and takes a few breaths, feeling the adrenaline spike through his system even though - as always - the warning comes way too late. And the words just emerge. “I’m seeing someone else.”

She blinks at him. Doesn’t speak.

He closes his eyes and sighs. “I’m sorry.”

There’s a lot of silence. Then, “Someone else?”

 “Yes.” And he forces himself to meet her eyes.

She’s silent, staring off into the distance, and her body is hyper-still. He can only stand that for so long, and so he adds miserably, “I didn’t plan it. I wasn’t looking for-” he lets out a huge sigh and shakes his head. “But… something happened. And I-”

“You want to.” Her tone is carefully even and he flinches at the way she sees the truth immediately.

“Yeah,” he says helplessly. “Max, I do.”

She just nods, biting her bottom lip. She has a great poker face, but he knows her too well, can see just exactly how much this is slicing into her.

“Max, I’m _sorry_.”

She shakes her head, short and sharp. “No. You don’t have to apologize. We’re not together, and you don’t owe me anything.”

Which, of course, leaves him feeling a lot worse. “Then why does this feel so crappy?”

Her mouth twists. “I don’t know, Logan. I guess we both bought into that happy-ever-after stuff and assumed it would all work out. But life’s just not like that, is it.” She’s bitter there at the end, but he can’t exactly begrudge it. Every dream she’s ever had has turned to garbage.

 

 

# * * *

 

Alec is wiping himself down with a damp cloth, removing all traces of Logan. He’s thorough – face, throat, arms and hands. He’s always thorough. Then he rinses the cloth and starts again. Torso, groin, lower back.

Logan tries not to watch, but his mind won’t let go of what’s happening behind him, no matter what else he tries to think about.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

Alec doesn’t even bother responding to that, just waits, folding the cloth neatly as he watches Logan.

Sometimes that intuition of his is a real pain in the ass.

“Nothing,” Logan says again, then shrugs. “I guess I should be grateful you’re not using bleach.”

And oh, _holy crap_. Hadn’t meant to say that. Because they both have the same memories of Logan, double gloved, dipping those gloves in buckets of bleach, making like the CDC or something for those few times when he’d had to read the runes on Max’s bare skin, back before the great TC Revolution.

Alec is incredibly still, but Logan can feel the fury and the hurt from here. He’s broken the rule, the We Do Not Mention Max rule. And though Logan may not have done any government psy-ops training, he’d have to be a complete moron not to know that Alec feels like some kind of second-best here.

“You know that’s not-”

“Forget it,” Logan says, trying to avert this disaster before it gets worse.

“Yeah. Of course, I’ll just forget it,” he agrees, tone so easy you could almost miss the molten rage in his eyes. “I may be an asshole, but I’m not quite that far gone yet.”

“The only one here who thinks you’re an asshole is _you_ , Alec.”

“Nice deflection. But getting back to this,” he waves the damp cloth in the air, “you know why I’m doing it, right? I’m not ashamed, or embarrassed, or any shit like that. I’m only doing this to avoid trouble for everyone.”

Logan shrugs.

“Oh for – so, _what,_ then? What do you think is going on here?”

“I _don’t know_ , Alec,” he surprises them both by suddenly shouting. “I just know that it feels pretty shitty to watch you go through this fucking detox program every time you leave, like I’m some kind of Typhoid Mary.”

“You think I _like_ doing it? You think I don’t want to carry some kind of traces with me when I go, to remind me?”

Logan blinks as Alec steps closer.

“I hate this too, Logan. But I am trying not to fuck things up any more than I already have.”

“What does that even _mean_?”

“It means you’re not supposed to be with _me._ ” He takes one shuddering breath.

“You’re in love with Max.” And his voice sounds just awful when he says it. The words sit there, a live grenade between them. “And Max is in love with you. The only reason you’re not together is because of the virus.”

Logan takes a step back. They’ve spent so long not talking about this he’d forgotten just how shitty it feels to think about it. But Alec doesn’t stop, the words flow out like he’s been holding them back for a while now.

“This – whatever this is, it’s temporary. I have no rights to you, and I can’t forget that, not even for a second. So I am _trying_ to make sure that when this is over, it doesn’t have to be nuclear winter. Not for you, not for anybody. One of these days, when you get your chance with Max, you’re not gonna have to worry about what she’s thinking, or whether people can keep their mouths shut-”

“I don’t-” and Logan halts, because he really doesn’t know what words he wants to use next. None of the ones he can think of seem to fit. “I don’t understand,” he finally says.

Alec shakes his head once, impatient. “Have you ever thought about this at all? About what would happen if everyone found out? Your life is tied to us, now. Think about Joshua. About Eddie and Dalton. They’re _your friends_ , Logan and Max’s _family_ -”

“Your family, too,” he says, and maybe this is part of the problem. _I’m an asshole_ and _Max’s family_ adding up to – what? Alec, with no-one.

But Alec stops at that, like all the air is gone. “It’s not the same,” he says finally, and Logan can tell he’s talking around what he really means. “They belong to Max. Not to me. She’s the one that drew everyone together. If this all went south…”

“What?”

But Alec is done talking, apparently. Glances away, at the blank walls, giving Logan nothing but that perfect profile. So Logan runs the words through his head again as Alec reaches for his clothes.

 _If this all went south_ …

Alec would disappear. Just like that, puff of fucking smoke and it’s like he was never here. Logan can see it all, so very clearly now.

“You can’t just walk away from this,” he says, throat tight. Because what the hell is he supposed to do here? Choose between them? He sidles past that question and goes for something else instead.

“You think you can just leave and forget we were ever together?” And then his throat closes over because, _fuck_. Maybe he _can_.

This is Alec, after all, and he’s never been the type to stay. Maybe Logan is the fool here, falling for an easy smile and magic hands…

Alec just looks at him, eyes flat and unreadable, and then he’s gone.

 

* * *

 

Logan walks into Terminal City for the first time in weeks, and nods casually to the familiar faces he sees. He spends some time shooting the breeze with Eddie, gently teasing about his new haircut and bemoaning the military-grade server they could have acquired, if that building hadn’t caught fire. Then he bumps into Dalton who has that wheeling and dealing look on his face, phone in his hand.

“You know where Alec is?” he asks, holding up the brown paper sack he’s carrying. And it’s not until then that he realizes the churning in his gut wasn’t the fear of discovery. It was the fear that Alec might already be long gone.

“Spare parts,” Dalton jerks a thumb in the general direction of the basement and hustles for the exit. Logan watches him go. Ok. So the one person who knows he was looking for Alec has now left. Nice.

He clatters down about four sets of stairs, signs of occupation growing increasingly distant with each floor. He has a vague idea Spare Parts is to the right and so he wanders that way, and sure enough after about twenty seconds he can hear the kind of sound you’d get if you were trying to stir a soup made from nuts and bolts. He hesitates, then retraces his steps to pull the fire door at the base of the stairs shut. If they’re gonna argue, this could get ugly. Then he keeps heading toward that sound, pauses in the doorway and soaks it all in.

For _once_ in his life, he has the drop on a transgenic, and when life decides to be good to him it apparently just goes _all_ the way.

Because Alec is bent over a huge industrial bin full of car parts, completely unable to hear the sounds around him over the din of tumbling metal. Logan can feel the blood leave his brain even as he grins. He has just enough brainpower left to close and lock the door.

Two quick steps and he is plastered against that ass, one hand snaking under Alec’s t-shirt to scrape over his nipples just as he drags his teeth over the sweet spot on his neck.

Alec gasps, shocked arousal clear in that one sound, and Logan bites down on his shoulder, hand still circling and rubbing beneath the shirt. There’s a clank of metal hitting metal as Alec’s hands open, involuntary.

“ _Logan_ ,” he moans, broken and Logan hums back, grinding his hips a little more just for the gut clenching satisfaction of knowing they’re both losing it, and then Alec is struggling to turn in Logan’s arms. He shifts just enough to allow it and then their mouths are fused together, a kiss so hot his knees give, just a little, just enough to press his erection more firmly against Alec’s.

The world has dropped away until there’s only _this_ , found his purpose and his compass and he moans aloud at the bliss. They’re biting, licking, gasping into each other in desperation, even the first time was nothing like _this_ , some kind of threshold crossed and it’s only when Logan reaches out a hand to brace himself on the wall and feels cold concrete that he remembers where they are.

“Yes,” Alec hisses, his hands like steel clamps, trying to pull Logan closer and he gasps, helpless with lust, even as some part of his brain attempts to restart.

“Alec,” he manages to choke out against warm skin. “Alec. Wait,” but the word is faint and fading fast, Alec’s hands snaking up the inside of Logan’s shirt, but a heartbeat later he pauses.

“Wait?” he murmurs, sounding dazed.

“Oh fuck.” Logan lifts his head just enough so that he’s panting against Alec’s lips instead of into his mouth, and he winces. “ _Don’t_ wait. But yeah. _Fuck._ ”

Alec’s eyes are open now, pupils blown wide and Logan bites his lip, then dives in for another kiss, deep and erotic because it’s simply not possible to just pull away from this. But halfway through his conscience demands action, and he sighs, slowing it down. “Sorry,” he mumbles in the middle, tongues tangling. “Shit, I’m sorry for starting something-”

“Don’t be sorry,” Alec breathes back. His hands are shaking where they rest on Logan’s back. “ _Jesus_. That was- you _can’t_ be sorry for that.”

He almost laughs. Almost. His dick is never gonna talk to him again, though. “Sorry we can’t _keep going_.”

“Oh. Yeah. That.” His tone is deep and dirty like the next kiss and Logan moans again.

“Alec,” he chides. Or begs, maybe. _More. “Alec.”_

“Sorry,” he returns, unrepentant, hips canting just slightly against Logan’s.

Okay. He probably deserved that. “Ahh,” he pants into Alec’s mouth and seriously, _seriously_ if they don’t cut this out he’s gonna come anyway.

But it’s slowing, tiny touches of heat and lust and longing from lips and hands and tongues, and a minute or two later they’re leaning back, letting air in between their bodies for the first time. Both still hard and aching and Logan can’t look at Alec’s mouth without _wanting_ -

“I don’t even-” but he has no way of finishing that other than _don’t even want to stop, don’t even care if everyone knows, don’t even give a shit about anything other than getting my hands on you again_. And he can’t say that stuff, so…

Alec’s breathing is unsteady too, and Logan’s trying not to get too triumphant over that. But he has to take his ego boosts where he can get them, what with being a broken down human in a world of superior beings.

“I really didn’t come here to start some-” and then it hits him, how this must look. Yesterday complaining about Alec covering his tracks and today he walks right into the heart of Terminal City and almost fucks the X5 up against a storage bin. His hands grip in panic. “Alec, I _swear_. I didn’t.”

“What?” It’s mostly confusion.

“I wasn’t trying to blow your cover, I _didn’t plan this_ -”

“Shh, Logan, relax, man, I know.”

“What?”

He shrugs. “I know. You’d never do something like that.” A wry grin tugs at the corner of his mouth. “Passive-aggressive bullshit is not your style.”

Logan drops the clutching hands he’d raised. “Oh.”

“So… then what did you come here for?” Alec’s question seems to be directed at his mouth and Logan licks his lips just for the hell of it. The transgenic sucks in a breath.

“Oh. Um. An apology slash gift.”

“We need to fight more often,” Alec mutters as Logan retrieves the brown paper bag from the floor.

He opens it, curious, while Logan glances around the room, trying not to calculate how many things here he could have bent Alec over or used for leverage. When he looks back, Alec is very still, staring down at the packets of baby wipes.

“Gem says they’re very effective. She um, says they cover scent particularly-”

And then Alec is just there, right in his space, Logan’s turn to be pressed up against a concrete pillar. “You brought me something we could clean up with?”

He swallows. “Uh, yes. After what I said the other-”

“And then you _stopped_?”

“I –they’re your rules,” he says helplessly, immediately hard again just from the look in Alec’s eye. “I was trying not to-”

“Shut,” Alec kisses him, “the fuck up.”

“Agreed,” Logan gasps, twisting his hands in Alec’s shirt.

They’ve made it to the floor in about three microseconds, and he’s honestly not sure if it’s the mouth and tongue action or the needy, broken noises they’re both making that have got Logan halfway there already. He’s just so fucking _hungry_ , like he’s been pining unrequited for a year, fantasizing and-

His fly seems to come open at superspeed and he jerks against Alec. “Christ.”

Then he looks down. Big mistake. Alec’s eyes are fixed on his, the kind of burning intensity Logan associates with life or death situations and he doesn’t break eye contact as he oh-so-slowly draws the fabric out of the way, mouth lowering so slowly it could take a week to get there and Logan will have come six times by then anyway just from the look in his eyes.

“Alec,” he chokes out, “oh _fuck_.”

When that mouth finally surrounds him he sucks in a huge breath, ready to yell and in the instant before he does Alec’s hand slaps over his mouth. _Good, that’s good_ , he thinks, feverish, because any restraint he had is totally gone and so he lets himself go, babbling praise and pleading against the hot skin of that clever hand. It’s the same hand that worked him over in the shower that first time, green eyes intent on his, just the way they are now.

His own hand comes up to grip Alec’s wrist - holding it in place as he writhes under the trickery of his tongue. It’s a mercy neither of them can understand the high, tight sounds he’s making because he’s saying way too much, giving it all up but Christ, _he_ _has to_ because Alec’s blow jobs are a scientific study on the many roads to ecstasy.

And here it comes, _oh God_ , Logan turns his head and his lips part over Alec’s thumb. It’s instinctive, he opens and draws it in, sucking with every ounce of strength he has as he comes and comes and comes, green eyes meeting his again and he sees the shock, the black pools of lust, Alec’s mouth tightening around Logan on a long, low moan as his body spasms against Logan’s leg.

“Fuck, oh _fuck_ ,” Logan is panting, still twitching some time later when he reaches down for Alec, drags the shuddering man up the length of his body. They’re both spent and useless, and it takes him three goes to draw in a decent lungful of air so that he can speak.

“Alec,” he murmurs it into the skin behind his ear, fingers gentle on his neck because the X5’s face is buried in his throat for some reason.

“Hey,” he murmurs. “Where’d you go?”

It takes a minute, but finally Alec turns his head and meets Logan’s gaze, wide-eyed. He’s flushed, but pale beneath, and oh God in this moment he looks impossibly young. It makes Logan tender all over again, he brushes a kiss over his lips, breathes a _hey, you_ into his ear and feels that trembling body come to rest against his, tension uncoiling at the touch.

“Christ Al-fucking-mighty,” Logan finally says, his tone beginning to come back to something approaching normal.

Alec’s arm tightens around him in response.

They lie there long enough for the afterglow to turn into _man_ , _this concrete is cold_ and finally he says “I think maybe I’m approaching that age where I need to warm up for this kind of thing.” But at least part of the cold in his bones is coming from the fact that Alec hasn’t spoken a word since he came – no, wait. Actually since before that.

He shifts, trying to get a glimpse, not that he’s likely to read much if the X5 is really trying to hide something. He gets hints, sometimes, of what’s going on underneath the mask, but he’s still a long way from fluent. But as he moves Alec raises his head and their eyes meet.

There’s something there, something stunned and vulnerable in the look Alec gives him but as he reaches out a hand the X5 slides back, taking all the warmth away.

“You okay?” Logan asks, very quietly.

Alec nods. His eyes flick toward the door. “Tell me you locked that.”

Logan nods back. “And I closed the door at the bottom of the stairs, too. I thought, um, I was worried we might argue.”

A tiny smile touches Alec’s mouth, but he is staring down at himself. Opening his own fly, and Logan wonders for a half-second if he’s somehow mad _because he_ _came_. Without Logan’s hands or mouth on him – well, not properly – but that can’t be it.

He frowns, then sighs. They’re not going to talk about anything, he can tell already that the X5 is back to business. That business being concealment.

“I can take those with me,” he starts to offer, then blinks when Alec flexes his hands and his underwear shreds to about twenty tiny pieces. O- _kay_. Easier than taking off his boots and jeans, probably.

Late to the party, he reaches for a packet of wipes and slides it across to Alec. There’s not really a whole lot of cleaning up for Logan to do, what with Alec swallowing him whole, but he can at least help.

They do it in silence, and by the end Logan is extremely frickin’ nervous. “Alec?” he says again. “Is something wrong?”

“No, man, nothin’s wrong.” He’s shoving the shreds of his underwear inside the empty packet, but when it’s done he glances up, smiles once, and though it’s not quite _right_ , somehow, Logan’s stomach settles a little.

“You want me to take that?” he asks and Alec shakes his head.

“I can get rid of it.” He’s safely tucked back inside his jeans now, Logan too, and only their reddened lips would give a sign that anything had happened in here.

Logan hesitates. “I guess I should… go,” he says. He can’t shake the feeling that something’s wrong, he’s missed something.

Alec draws in a deep breath. “I guess,” he says, and his lack of inflection tells Logan nothing at all. He looks up and they stare at one another for a silent moment before Alec says, “There’s a back way out of TC from this level.”

“Okay.” He says it slowly, hesitates and then thinks, _screw it, what’s the point of pride anyway_. Ten minutes ago they were about as intimate as two people can get. “Will I see you tonight?”

Alec blinks. “I’ll, uh, I’ll try.”

He nods, still watchful. And then as he turns to go he remembers the whole point behind this visit. He still doesn’t have any answers about the whole Max question, but he can at least make something right. “Look, I wanted to say, I mean I came to tell you that I’m sorry about, the bleach thing-”

“You don’t need to apologize to me,” Alec says, very crisp. He isn’t looking Logan in the eye.

Logan narrows his eyes, “Uh, yeah, I do.”

He gets a shake of the head in reply.

“Alec, if I’ve done something wrong I need to say so.”

Alec just nods, body preparing to turn away and end this conversation and Logan catches his face in one hand, turns him back until they’re eye to eye.

“Alec,” he whispers, “We’re equals in this. You need to believe that. No-one is doing favors here, you don’t have to take crap from me any more than I do from you.”

His eyes are fixed on Logan’s mouth, and he manages a half smile. When Logan drops a tiny kiss on his lips his eyes close.

“I’ll try,” he whispers back.

They’re both exposed, trembling on the edge of something and Logan is cursing himself for starting this here, where they can’t pursue it. So instead he eases back and says, “I mean, I’m a catch, there’s no doubt. But I’m still a guy. Just as likely to say something bone-headed as you are.”

And he leaves on that note, Alec grinning in a way that’s almost normal. He’s damned if he can figure out why things should change just because they had absolutely phenomenal sex, but he’s not gonna give up until he knows why.

Alec doesn’t come by that night. Or the next.

 


	5. Assassinate This

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Logan wants to say: It’s all right. You’re safe. Nothing can hurt you.   
> But in this world, in Alec’s life, it’s perfectly possible, it’s damn likely, that none of those is true.

 

Something stirs Logan to wakefulness in the middle of the night and he recognizes the familiar scent before he’s even fully awake.

“Alec?” he mumbles. It’s dark, plus, no glasses so he’s pretty much blind, but he reaches out one groping hand and at the edge of the mattress he strikes something firm and warm. A shoulder.

He lets out a small noise of muzzy satisfaction, _glad you came back_ , not thinking much beyond that as the hard pit in his stomach unwinds for the first time in days. He should be thinking, he knows this, but sleep is a warm weight pulling him down. He wriggles just slightly so that his head is resting against Alec’s. The other man is sitting on the floor, back braced against the bed, and so Logan flings one arm out, letting it hang over Alec’s shoulder and across his chest.

“You okay?” he slurs, almost gone again.

“Yeah, man. I’m fine. Go back to sleep.” Alec’s voice is calm and relaxed.

His eyes close obediently and he draws in a long, slow breath as Alec’s hand comes up and gently clasps his forearm, anchoring them together. And a half-second later Logan’s eyes fly open and he jolts abruptly out of sleep.

“Alec?”

Head up, he stares, trying to pierce through the darkness. He can see the outline of Alec’s head from this angle, but that’s it. “What’s wrong?”

There’s no reply, and it takes another few seconds before Logan can pinpoint what’s causing this feeling of dread in his gut. “ _What is it_?” he says, voice sharp now, and he flattens his hand against Alec’s chest, feeling the fine tremors wracking his body. It’s a warm night which means this is likely caused by shock.

“Are you hurt?” Up on hands and knees, he runs his hand along any part of Alec that he can reach, checking for patches of blood. Head, neck, shoulders, chest.

“I’m fine. _Logan_. I’m fine,” he repeats, and now his voice is totally wrong. It must have taken everything he had to fake that one sentence when Logan had first awoken.

“You’re not fine. What’s wrong?” he scrabbles at the bedside table for his glasses, shoves them on and then slides from the bed to the floor in a graceless heap. “What is it?”

“I’m not hurt,” Alec says, and thank God, at least he’s responding to the questions he’s been asked, seems to know where he is. He’s not in the middle of some flashback, really doesn’t seem to be injured, and he knows where he is and who’s he’s with.

Logan gets right up in his space, arms wrapped around the other man, bodies tight and warm against each other, both leaning against the bed. He’s not sure he’s doing the right thing, but after a few seconds Alec’s hand comes up, cups his bicep and he just hangs on.

He lets time tick by, really not sure what the hell he’s supposed to do now, what might be the right move here. He _wants_ to burble comforting nonsense.

 _It’s all right. You’re safe. Nothing can hurt you_.

But in _this_ world, in Alec’s life, it’s perfectly possible, it’s damn likely, that none of those is true.

“Can you tell me?” He finally says. It’s always going to be his first instinct. Get the full picture. Get the detail.

He can hear Alec swallow. They stay as they are, still and silent, and finally he says it.

“Eddie’s dead.”

Logan’s arms lock into place. His breath escapes like it was punched out of him. “No,” he whispers. “Oh, no.”

Not Eddie.

Eddie, who’d arrived in TC only a few days before the whole mess exploded, sporting a shattered arm and a strange scar in the side of his neck. Eddie who’d warned them he could never be taken alive.

“Oh, _no_ ,” Logan whispers, as the reason for Alec’s stillness becomes suddenly clear. “Oh _babe_.” And he’s rocking now, it’s automatic, comfort for them both. Alec doesn’t speak, doesn’t move, he just remains in the circle of Logan’s arms, pliant.

“It’s all right,” Logan finally says, tasting the lie.  There’s really nothing else to say to a man who has just killed a good friend.

 

 

After a long time he can feel his muscles protesting their cramped position and he persuades Alec up onto the bed, staying close. “Go to sleep,” he whispers, not sure if he’s doing the right thing.

The transgenic doesn’t answer, and for a long time it’s just the two of them, silent and sad in the night. Finally Alec’s breathing slows and Logan watches his eyelids drift shut, finds himself asking the universe silently to let the man find some blessed peace, for a few short hours.

 When he awakes it’s dawn, there’s a warm length stretched along his back and he is more than halfway to an orgasm.

“Alec,” he gasps, hips jackknifing automatically into the hand around his cock, and gets a slow, measured nip of teeth at the nape of his neck in response. He can’t help the strangled moan that comes from his mouth, but he drags in a few deep breaths, trying to get his head on straight, trying to remember-

“Wait,” he says, as it washes over him in a wave. _Eddie_. _Eddie’s dead._

“Alec, wait.” He tries to turn, not sure what he wants, just that he needs to see Alec’s face.

For a moment he thinks the other man is going to keep on, regardless, and his heart shrivels at the thought, at the impersonal, mechanical way Alec is touching him. And then he stops. Lets go.

Logan turns, rolling all the way until he’s crouched over Alec, one hand arrowing into his hair, pads of his fingers pressing home. A blank mask stares back at him.

Talking is not going to fix this. Logan knows that immediately. In fact, nothing is really going to _fix it_. But he can’t leave Alec looking like that.

He slithers down Alec’s body and yanks his fly open. He hears Alec draw in a breath, and reaches inside to wrap his hand around that nice, juicy erection. His eyes flick up, lock on Alec’s and the stare at each other for a second along the length of his body.

Then Logan moves forward, snail’s pace, unblinking, and watches Alec watch him part his lips, flick out a tongue, taste it.

Every muscle in Alec’s body springs to a lock, thighs rigid, stomach tight, neck and forearms corded and straining. He slams his head back against the mattress, still silent, and Logan keeps going, lips sliding around it like a goddam lollipop, never done this before but suddenly realizing he’s gonna really fucking like it.

He’s not really all that sure what he’s doing but it really doesn’t seem to matter, judging from the tiny movements of Alec’s hips and the way he’s panting, fists clenching and unclenching on the sheets.

“ _Logan_ ,” he moans, just that, voice spring-loaded with need and  Logan lifts his head, hand taking over because he just has to see this, has to see Alec mid-abandon, body a silent arc as he comes, messy, eyes tight shut, teeth clamped over his bottom lip, just the most totally fucking _beautiful_ sight Logan’s ever seen.

Some instinct tells him not to wrap Alec up in the aftermath, that the other man is too raw for that, and so he lets the X5 disappear into the shower while Logan goes and makes coffee. He almost starts putting together pancake batter, then reconsiders. It wouldn’t feel right, not for a …funeral.

So when Alec appears in the doorway he gestures to the waiting coffee and keeps on buttering toast. Alec, however, is frowning at the wheelchair.

“You need another transfusion?”

Logan shakes his head, slides the plate into his lap and wheels over to the table. “Just keeping in practice.”

Alec is still frowning.

“Sit down. Come on.”

“Why do you need to stay in practice? The transfusions are working, you don’t need the chair anymore.”

“The transfusions are working,” Logan slides a plate in front of Alec. “But maybe one day they won’t. Or maybe one day I’ll be cut off somehow, all the transgenics head off to Mexico. Maybe they’ll snatch up Eyes Only and ship me off to prison, who knows? The point is its possible I’ll lose sensation again and if I do, I’ll need the chair. And believe me, building up the upper body strength? Acquiring these callouses?” He raises his hands, “It’s no joke. So I need to stay ready.”

Alec subsides into a chair, still looking mutinous.

He sips his coffee, looking a lot like he had the night of Joshua’s wildly unsuccessful dinner party – haunted, guilt-ridden and completely lacking the skills to process his emotions. And oddly enough, he’s sitting at the same spot, same table, all these months later.

Logan works his way through half a piece of toast while he thinks, and then drops it on the plate. “Okay,” he says, firm and calm and businesslike. “Report.”

Alec stares at him across the table.  “What did you say?”

“Report,” he said. “Last night. Take me though it.”

He leans back in his chair, body rigid and brow wrinkling. “Logan, I’m not gonna-”

“You need to sort through what happened.”

“No, what I need is-”

“Alec,” he leans forward, trying to hold him with his eyes. “Listen to me. I know you want to pretend it never happened. And you’re strong enough, stubborn enough that it might work for a while. You did it with Rachel Berrisford. Right?”

Logan feels like an asshole when he witnesses the flinch, but there’s only so much scar tissue one person can carry. And he’s here now, so he’s gonna do whatever doctoring he can.

“Max told you about that?” It’s barely audible.

“She asked me to do some research when it was all going down.” He hesitates, “After seeing you at dinner that night, I figured most of it out on my own.”

“I don’t want to-”

“I’m not asking about that.” Logan has actually been trying very hard to build a shell around the idea of Rachel. Because he finds himself intensely curious. Not _jealous_. Just… interested.

“I’m telling you- look.” He sighs, tries to pick his words carefully. “You – none of you – can pretend that Manticore never happened. Okay?”

There’s a flash of pure rage over Alec’s face and he hurries on. “What I’m saying is, it’s more than the hand-to-hand training and the weapons. They trained your minds as well. Especially those – like you – who were in there the longest. They sent you on missions, and when you came back, you were expected to report on what you’d seen and done. Right?”

He shrugs, sullen now. Alec’s well-concealed loathing of Manticore gets closer to the surface each day, Logan notes with satisfaction. It makes a nice change from the ‘hey I’m just following orders and don’t care who gives them’ crap he used to spin.

“So this is the way your mind is trained to process things. Difficult things. Unthinkable things. You went on a mission last night, Alec. Not for Manticore, but for your _family_. For a good reason. But you still need to process what you did and what you saw.”

There’s silence for a while.

Then he says, heavily. “I don’t know if I can.”

“Okay,” Logan takes a deep breath. “How about we just start with a few questions?”

Alec gives one sharp nod. His hands are out of sight beneath the table, clenched into fists, no doubt.

“Do you know where they picked him up? Or how?”

He blinks, and the tension drops just slightly because this is just _facts_ , just intel. Not _what Alec did_. “He was making a pickup on the outskirts of TC. He hardly ever left, you know, because…”

 _Because if they ever get me, you guys are gonna have to take me out. Pronto._

Logan tries to shake off the memory of Eddie laying it all out, so calm, so very certain.

“So were they lying in wait for him? Or was it pure bad luck?”

Alec shrugs. “Don’t know. An X7 saw the snatch and called it in, I guess the others are debriefing him now.”

“So how long did they have him before you got the word?”

He shakes his head, “Probably half an hour?”

“He always said you’d have a one-hour window.”

“Yeah.” And that one word is a stopper, Alec’s forearms clenching as they get closer to _It_.

Logan keeps his tone even and skirts around it again. “Okay. So you knew he’d been snatched, how’d you locate the place where they were holding him?”

“The X7 communicated with the hive and followed the van. It’s why Eddie always kept an X7 with him.”

Logan nods. “And where did they take him?”

“An army base on the outskirts of town.”

“Hard target,” Logan comments.

Alec simply nods. He’s too disciplined to be twitchy but Logan can see just how badly he wants to get up and walk away.

“So you guys talked it over.” He tries to picture it, doesn’t want to make Alec say any more than he has to. “You and Max and…”

“Mole. Joshua. Dalton was there, too, and the two other X7s.”

Logan tries not to blink at that one. The transgenics don’t have quite the same attitude to childhood innocence as he does. They’ve never been able to afford that kind of blissful ignorance.

“You all knew the score,” he said slowly. “You all knew what Eddie had asked for. What it would mean if they got that transmitter decoded.” The transmitter that was recording everything Eddie had seen and heard. All the intel on the transgenic population at Terminal City.

Alec is staring at the table. His eyes are dead – there’s no other way to describe it. Logan just waits, and finally he says, “We looked at all the angles. But there was no time. The X7s said he’d been taken to an IT center, which meant they were getting the decoding hardware set up.”

“So things were urgent.”

“Mole was heading out with the rifle.”

“Rifle?”

“Sniper standard issue.”

Logan nods, waiting. His heart is pounding a slow drumbeat of dread. This is just. It’s awful. Beyond awful.

“I took it from him.”

“Why you?”

“Because. He was m-” He sticks there for a minute, then says it, carefully even. “He was my friend. And I’d promised.”

Logan bites his lip. “Okay,” he says, very soft. “You made it to the base with the help of the X7s.”

He nods.

“How long?” The tiny details are helping him focus, creating distance.

“Seventeen minutes.”

“And how did you breach base security?”

“Didn’t have to.” He’s breathing steadily, rhythmic as a metronome. It’d be easy to assume he’s not bothered. But it’s just the opposite, Logan knows. He was exercising control over every single thing he can, which right now doesn’t include much. Certainly not his emotions. He was probably counting, too. “There was a high vantage point on the north-west corner perimeter.”

“So you got in position,” Logan prompts. “How much time is on the clock now?”

“Forty eight minutes.” He’s not blinking now.

Logan swallows and controls his tone carefully as he asks, “You’re looking through the scope. What do you see?”

For almost a minute he thinks Alec won’t speak. Then he says, “Eddie’s in a chair. Restrained. He didn’t go easy.”

“He’s injured?”

Alec nods. “I think he tried to… do the job himself.”

Logan draws in a long breath. Right. That sounded like Eddie. The soldiers must have only been carrying nonlethal weapons, if Eddie hadn’t managed to kill himself during the capture. The government really, _really_ wanted the intel on that chip. “Conscious?”

He nods again and Logan bites his lip. They’re at the business end now and he’s suddenly unsure what to do next.

“He’s straining against the bonds,” Alec says suddenly. “He wants to fight. He’s…”

“Desperate.” He can imagine it all too well. 

“Yes.” He looks up, meets Logan’s eyes for the first time. Then he glances away. “I signaled him,” he says softly.

“What?”

“The laser sight. I flashed it on the opposite wall. Shouldn’t have done it,” he mutters. “Could’ve blown the whole op. But.”

“You wanted him to know.”

He nods, staring across the living room.

“He saw it?”

He nods again. His throat moves as he swallows, then he says, “He sat up. I was behind him, couldn’t see his face. But he kind of-” and Alec straightens in his chair, drawing himself up, shoulders back.

“And then?”

“He turned his head as far as he could. Wanted me to see, I guess. Give me a better angle to take out the chip. He s-” Alec licks his lips. “He smiled.”

“Probably relieved,” Logan says softly. And he watches, just waiting, heart aching at the wrongness of it all.

“And then I took the shot.”


	6. Some Adjustment Required

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “She’s beautiful,” Logan says, and there’s a weird half-grin on his face. Alec flicks a glance at him and is blindsided by the idea that for just a second, Logan is picturing his own babies. His own, half-transgenic babies, with Max.

 

“Hey,” Logan’s greeting is warm and quick, as always, and Alec just has enough time to give a warning shake of the head before he steps aside to reveal the other visitor.

“Gem!” Logan blinks. “Uh, hey – hi, uh, good to see you.” He manages to switch his tone from surprise to warm welcome in an instant, which is in no way a shock to Alec. Logan’s Mom was apparently some kind of demon for entertaining, which probably explains a lot about her son. Not only that he loves to cook, but that even in this economy he has no problem dealing with eight people showing up on his doorstep at dinnertime, with no notice. Thank God he has Dalton to get fresh produce for him.

“Hi,” she manages a smile and Alec stares narrowly down at her, instincts twitching. Something’s up. Nothing threatening, or he never would have brought her here. Logan’s location isn’t something they advertise, even in Terminal City. But _something_ is definitely up.

“And little Miss Skye, as well,” Logan says, his tone soft and sweet as he ducks down low enough to peer into that little baby face. He looks just as dumb as everyone does when confronted with the infant, but Alec can’t exactly mock. If Manticore hadn’t taught him some seriously twisted shit about control he’d be just as goofy as everyone else. The kid is hard-core cute.

“Hey there,” Logan croons, and the little legs dangling out of the pouch kick in response. “She’s getting _big_ ,” he says, straightening and meeting Gem’s eyes once more.

“Tell me about it.”

There it is again, that ghost of worry. Alec exchanges a glance with Logan.

“You want to put her down?” Alec says. He’s seen enough at TC to know the kid’s pretty mobile now.

“Uh…” she glances around the room. “I guess.”

What she’s looking for he has no clue, though it looks vaguely like the way every Manticore soldier scopes unfamiliar turf for danger. Kid risks, maybe? Whatever those are.

 “I’ll grab a blanket,” Logan, says, and hurries out. Alec watches Gem undo the catches of the pouch-thing and blinks. It looks more complicated than improvising explosives.

Logan comes back with a patchwork throw he recognizes and Alec feels one eyebrow flick up. Their eyes meet and Logan hits him with a glare that clearly says _yes we fucked on this rug a few weeks ago and no this isn’t weird or wrong in any way._

He suppresses a laugh and turns back to Gem instead. She’s watching Logan spread out the blanket as the baby dangles from one hip. Considering her own baby was the first she’d ever held she looks good, natural even. And the tiny smile at one corner of her mouth softens the tired lines which, according to Original Cindy, inevitably arrive along with the baby.

“Thanks,” she says, and crouches to sit Skye on the blanket. She scoots back a little but lingers, one hand hovering, ready to catch, and Alec has a sudden memory of the massive wobbles Skye had displayed one memorable day, about eleven different transgenics gathered in a circle around one tiny baby as she sat up on her own for the first time.

He finds himself cross-legged on the rug, within reach, without even thinking about it. Logan sinks onto the couch, forming the final arm of a watchful triangle, while Skye, utterly fascinated, reaches for her own foot, folding up in a way that seems completely unnatural when it’s not being done by a certain gymnast Alec met in Prague years before.

“She’s beautiful,” Logan says, and there’s a weird half-grin on his face. Alec flicks a glance at him and is blindsided by the idea that for just a second, Logan is picturing his own babies. His own, half-transgenic babies, with Max.

He chokes back sudden nausea and refocuses on the baby at his feet. She is blinking down at the patchwork squares.

“Yeah,” Gem says, her voice soft. But she’s biting her lip. Alec watches her carefully without being obvious. It’s good to focus on something other than his own shitty thoughts.

“Gem, are you okay?” Logan’s voice is very soft, and his eyes are still on the baby.

She presses her lips together.

Her eyes flick to Alec, who says, “I can go, if you want.” Though he is totally gonna listen to whatever it is she came here to say.

“No,” she says, unconvincing. “That’s okay.” He looks at her steadily and she says, “It’s just, um, I want to ask Logan something and I’m not sure-”

“You want it to stay private?” he asks, one eyebrow raised. Not hard to guess, considering the way she’d caught up to him on his own, in the tunnels leading out of TC. _Can you take me to Logan’s?_

She nods. “I’m just not sure how some of the others might take it. They all love Skye so much…”

Logan is frowning, and they exchange a quick glance.

“I can keep my mouth shut,” Alec says quietly. “Whatever this is, if it’s about you and Skye then it’s no-one else’s business.”

Did she want to leave TC? It made some kind of sense. Skye could pass for normal. If Gem got out now and didn’t do anything stupid, maybe they could have some kind of safe suburban life.

She nods, and he can see she’s made her decision. “You’re right,” she says. “She’s mine. I have the right to make this choice.”

“What can we do for you, Gem?” Logan asks, gentle.

Alec tries not to focus on the _we_ too much. Me and Logan. Us.

“It’s because of Eddie,” she says, totally out of the blue and Alec rocks back like he’s taken a punch to the face.

Logan jolts upright, already turning toward Alec when Gem seems to realize what she’s done.

“ _Shit_ ,” she says, horrified, one hand outstretched to Alec, “ _No_ , I didn’t mean-”

And Skye promptly topples over on one side, saved from a thumper of a landing when Alec’s hand slides between her head and the blanket.

The little face crinkles into a frown and then Gem’s hands are there, tipping her gently upright. Skye winds her hands around her mother’s wrist and Alec is drawing back when Gem grips his forearm with her other hand. “I’m _sorry_ ,” she breathes, “I’d completely forgotten that you-”

- _killed him_ , Alec finishes for her silently.

“I’m _so sorry_ ,” she says again, and he nods.

“It’s okay.”

Her grip tightens enough that he has to glance up. It’s weird, feeling another transgenic’s strength. He’s gotten used to Logan’s lighter touch. “It’s _not_ okay,” she says, “ _at all_. But I’ve just been so distracted, I completely forgot everything except my own problems.”

“It’s all right,” he says again, meaning it this time and she takes a breath, glances down at Skye again, now gumming at her mother’s knuckles.

She stays as she is, staring down at her daughter and Alec risks a glance up at Logan.

He’s easing back onto the couch. Pale, worried for Alec, and so he gives the guy a slow nod. _I’m alright_. Logan subsides, still frowning, and turns his gaze back to Gem.

She’s shaking her head, face tight with anxiety as she watches her daughter. “I am so crap at this stuff,” she murmurs, maybe not meaning to be heard, but with an X5 in the room she’s kidding herself.

“You’re doing fine,” Alec says, and leans in. She still hasn’t let go of his arm and now he forces her to meet his eyes. “She’s healthy, isn’t she? Developing right?”

She swallows and tries for a smile. “Yeah, but I think parents are supposed to do a little better than just feed and water them. Or so I hear. What sort of mess am I gonna make of this?”

“No more than any other parent,” Logan says, surprising them both. “Trust me, there’s plenty of people with way more exposure to family dynamics than you’ve had, and some of them completely crash and burn as parents. Plenty of others do great. Far as I can tell, the most important thing is to let them know you love them.”

Gem finally lets go of Alec’s arm and sits up a little straighter. “And the rest of the time?”

He shrugs. “I don’t really know,” he half-laughs. “Wing it, I guess.”

“Oh, _big_ help,” she says dryly. She sighs, then raises her eyes to Logan. “Look, I asked Alec to bring me here so I could ask you a favor.”

“Name it,” he says, and Alec’s heart turns clean over.

Oh, the big dumb soft touch. He’s gonna have to teach Logan a thing or two about conditions, and clarifying, and _waiting_.

Gem is smiling like she’s thinking the same thing. “You might want to hold off on that for a second. This is bigger than asking for fake papers or fresh eggs.”

Logan shrugs, makes a ‘go ahead’ kind of gesture as Skye flops onto her belly. She’s spotted Alec’s boots and heads for them in a kind of wriggle, eyes crossed.

“It was after Eddie,” Gem begins again, flicking an apologetic glance toward Alec, who is carefully watching the baby’s progress. She seems to have gathered momentum, much like her mother. “He was here one day and then just, gone, you know? And I mean, we all know the deal but I guess, being out of Manticore it’s a little too easy to forget sometimes.”

“And I just thought – what if that had been me?”

Alec blinks and turns his head to look at Gem.

“Not even that it has to be Manticore, or the snake-cult sickos. I mean, I could get hit by a car, or get sick, just like anyone else. What about Skye? What happens to her then?”

Logan takes in a long, slow breath, hands flattening on his thighs. “Yeah,” he says, soft, and there’s a flash of pain on his face. Probably thinking about Ames White’s kid. Mother gone in an instant, father a total waste of skin.

And Alec, of all people, knows _exactly_ where Gem’s going with this. Knows also that Logan doesn’t have the first clue. He goes still, waiting for it to unfold. Skye keeps on bellying forward toward his boots.

“I thought about it for weeks,” Gem says, her voice thick. “Choices. Arrangements. And I just, nothing felt right. And then,” she presses her lips into a flat line. “I thought of you.” She raises her eyes to Logan, who blinks back at her like a deer in the headlights.

“She’s – she doesn’t have a barcode, you know?”

“I know,” Logan says. And then his eyes widen. “ _Ohhh_.” He glances at Alec, then quickly away.

“She could have a normal life, or pretty normal anyway. Far as we know. She could be… safe. More than if she was with-” she darts a glance at Alec, who nods his comprehension. If she was expecting judgment she’s sure as shit not gonna get it from him.

“And you _know_ me,” she says, her voice a thin thread. “If something – if I died, you could tell her about me. It wouldn’t be like giving her to strangers. I mean,” she takes a deep breath, “you were there the day she was born.”

She manages a tremulous smile. “You know about us, you could tell her the truth about where she came from. I don’t want to pretend transgenics don’t exist,” she says, suddenly fierce. “I don’t want _that_. But I don’t want her to always live like this, either. Not if she doesn’t have to.”

Logan sinks back against the couch, honestly dumbstruck. Alec has to hide the faint smile he can feel forming on his face. It’s wildly inappropriate, and he knows this, but the guy just looks so damn cute like that. It’s not often you see Logan Cale blindsided and speechless. Last time Alec saw it was in a certain dark alley…

“Gem,” Logan finally says, “I don’t – I don’t know what to say. That’s – I mean, that’s an amazing compliment. To trust me with your child.”

Gem’s small smile is wry. “Everyone in TC trusts you with their lives, Logan. It’s really not that big a stretch.”

Logan is shaking his head slowly, staring down at the pink bundle currently reaching for Alec’s bootlaces, and he can feel Gem tense at his side, expecting a refusal. “He’s not saying no,” he murmurs, for her ears only. “He’s just stunned. Give him a minute.”

She shoots him a sidelong glance that’s half surprise, half speculation, and he distracts her by reaching for the baby. He slides his hands around Skye’s ribcage, the way he’s seen others do, never more excruciatingly aware of the strength in his fingers, in his wrists. His thumbs meet over her sternum, the strong, tiny heart beating beneath, and he raises her gingerly to eye level. The cross-eyed thing wasn’t just about his laces, it seems.

One little hand reaches out, and she collects his bottom lip as if by accident. He’s blinking, not sure what to do next. It seems unsanitary or something, but he can see Gem grinning from the corner of his eye so he just stays as he is. If the baby’s happy, he can do this all day. He’s had a few encounters with an unhappy baby, and the memory of that sound still makes him quake.

“Gem,” Logan says, his voice rough, “I’m honored that you’d even consider it. And yes. Absolutely. I’d be privileged to be her… guardian. _Thank_ you.”

Alec looks up and their eyes lock. All the strength flows out of his arms at the look on Logan’s face.

Then Skye tightens her fist like a vice over his lip, fingernails digging.

“ _Ow_ ,” Alec says, stung, and Gem collapses against him, helpless with laughter and possibly relief. He can hear Logan chuckle, too, and carefully keeps his eyes on the baby’s tiny, squidgy face.

“Wow,” Logan says, expelling a long, careful breath. “Okay. Shit. All of a sudden I am sharing your total terror, Gem. I don’t know anything about thi-”

“It’s okay,” she says, and there’s a smile in her voice.

Might be because Alec is trying to gently extract his lip from Skye’s grasp, raising her up until her feet dangle above his head. And the tiny hand loosens, _mission accomplished_. He grins up at her, flushed with success.  

Gem adds, “I have it on good authority that all you have to do is love them.”

There’s silence, and then Logan says slowly, “Well in that case I guess I’ll be okay. Because really, how can you not love that?”

And when Alec raises his eyes to Logan they stare at one another for a long silent moment.


	7. Ties that Bind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I want to tie you up.”  
> Alec’s eyes widen and he raises his head. “You – what did you say?” And then he’s coughing, can’t get enough air to say, “You want to what?”

 

Logan is perched on the edge of the coffee table. He lets himself, for once, stare openly at Alec, who is slouching in the armchair. No-one’s allowed to stare too long at Alec, he’s begun to realize. The transgenic hates it. Normally a long look like this would invite a shit-ton of sarcasm, or the kind of eye-roll that is always followed by extreme Manticore-related avoidance. But tonight, he _wants_ Alec off-balance. Just a little.

“What.” Alec opens his eyes just barely enough to focus. “What?”

“I have a request,” he says, like he’s going to ask for reconnaissance of a dirty cop or maybe someone to kidnap a witness.

“Sure,” Alec says, easy. “Name it.”

“I want to tie you up.” Logan’s not sure what imp prompts him to say it out like that, naked. He could have done it differently. Could have gotten Alec into bed – not like that part is ever difficult – and then just hinted around the bush.

It gets a reaction, though. Alec’s eyes widen and he raises his head. “You – _what_ did you say?” And then he’s coughing, can’t get enough air to say, “You want to _what?_ ”

Logan’s human enough, _heh,_  to admit he’s enjoying the reversal – taking Alec aback, for once – so he says it again, carefully ordinary, “I want to tie you up.” As though he’s suggesting they have French toast for breakfast. Which, actually – not such a bad plan. After.

Now Alec is sitting up, paying attention which means he has only about twenty seconds of advantage left. “Logan Cale,” he’s saying, mock-scandalized, “you twisty son of a-”

“Is that a yes?”

He blinks, leaning back just a little. “I… I don’t know. Shouldn’t you just overpower me and tie me up? Isn’t that the point?”

He shakes his head, slow and deliberate. “Not at all. I want you to agree. We both know that however I restrain you, you could get out of it in about thirty seconds flat. If you agree, I want you to promise you’ll stay tied up until I let you out.”

Alec doesn’t answer immediately.

“I understand it goes against your training,” Logan says, soft and reassuring. “If you want to say no I won’t hold it against-”

His eyebrows flick up immediately, rising to the bait. “No, man, I’m up for it, I guess. Just surprised at you, is all.”

“Oh, I’m a conundrum,” he says dryly, happy enough for Alec to concentrate on _Logan’s_ kinks. If the other man thought too deeply about this he’d probably figure out what was really going on.

“Aren’t you just,” Alec says, getting to his feet. “Can’t say I mind that part.” He’s already reaching for his belt and Logan puts a hand out, stopping him but keeping it light.

He lets Alec pull him to his feet and they eye each other for a moment, Alec still with that teasing light in his eye that Logan just frickin’ loves to see and for just a moment he falters, wondering if he’s risking something that’s already great on the off chance that it could be unbelievable. Could be, maybe, _everything_.

The thought sneaks up on him and he sucks in a breath. No, wait, not _that_. Not yet. This isn’t about feelings. This is about _Alec_.

“Dude – you okay?” Alec, of course, sees it all. He puts out a hand and rests it at Logan’s waist and just that, the warmth seeping through his shirt steadies the ground beneath his feet.

“Fine,” Logan says, knowing that won’t cut it. “A little nervous, I guess.” Which is no lie.

Alec’s brows lift. “Is this the part where I say, _it’s okay, we’ll stop whenever you want to?_ Because I kinda thought that’d be your line this evening.”

He huffs out a laugh. “You’re right.” And he steps closer, cupping Alec’s face in his hands. “And you know I will, right?”

Alec smiles, shrugs. “Sure. I trust you.” The words come so easy they're meaningless. What the X5 means, of course, is _you can’t hurt me_.

“And you could incapacitate me using only a paperclip if I don’t stop, of course.”

“There is that,” Alec allows, still casual. He’s backing toward the bedroom and reaches for the hem of his t-shirt and Logan’s hand shoots out to stop him. He raises an eyebrow.

“We got a no-nudity clause going tonight?”

“Nudity will come. Eventually.” Logan allows, making his tone very deep and sure. He doesn’t want to actually _take control_ , doesn’t want to do anything that might remind Alec of orders or commands or anything at all to do with Manticore. Better if it just… unfolds that way. “I’d just like to do it myself, that’s all.”

He shrugs. “It’s your party.”

“And you’re the guest of honor.” He slides the shirt off, got no objection to seeing that gorgeous torso laid out for the taking. They’re beside the bed and he nudges with one knee, furiously glad all of a sudden that Joshua had shown up last week and dragged Logan off for a transfusion. His body would obey his commands tonight, and that was suddenly vital.

Alec takes the hint and sprawls out on the bed and _Jesus_ , he’s beautiful. Logan drags in an unsteady breath which, of course, Alec hears, and the smile that blooms on his face is so sure and smug it should be hateful except that Logan knows, has seen a hundred times how much it’s a fake.

It’s so _obvious_ once you look deeply. Obvious that Alec truly loathes the fact that his outer package is so attractive, how the other man would give almost anything to be ordinary.

“So what are we talkin’, here? You got handcuffs stashed away? Gonna break out the leather shackles or something?”

And Logan laughs. “Nothing so professional.” He hesitates, then adds, “I’ve never done this before.”

“Huh.” Alec eyes him curiously, then says, “Me either.”

Logan just nods and turns away. It’s probably a lie, said to make him feel better. Once upon a time he wouldn’t have believed Alec would bother, but he knows better now. And the transgenic’s sexual history is a minefield they don’t venture near.

“Actually,” he says, wanting to get away from that particular danger, “I think you’ll get a kick out of this.” He reaches under the bed, slides a suitcase out about two feet and flicks open the lid with one hand. “Some X7s went snooping around my old building and found a lot of abandoned stuff in the storage room.”

“Talk talk talk,” Alec is muttering behind him.

“Some of which was…” he straightens, two silk ties in his hands. “Mine.”

“You’re kidding.” Alec shakes his head. He eyes the two shining lengths and raises an eyebrow. “I thought one of the perks of being an underground journalist-slash-hacker would be never having to wear a tie.”

Logan shrugs. “This one was my college fraternity tie,” he says, ignoring Alec’s rolled eyes at the lameness, “and this,” he pauses for a second, “is the tie I wore when I married Val.”

That stops Alec for a second. “Now I see the kink,” he says dryly. “You’re using your own wedding apparel to tie up your transgenic boyfriend. That doesn’t seem odd to you?”

Logan is fighting back a grin, but he answers seriously. “Well, it’s part of the journey that brought me here, I guess. This doesn’t make you my bride, in case you were worried.”

Alec gives him a _points for you, smartass_ kind of look, but he holds out one wrist readily enough. “Seriously. _So much talking_.”

And Logan laughs, can feel some of the tension drop out of his shoulders as he formulates the knot he actually had to do _research_ for, something that might maybe hold the strength of a straining transgenic for more than a few seconds.

“Maybe that’s my master plan. Wouldn’t _that_ be something.” He slides one of the loops around the bedpost and yanks. “I get you right where I want you, helpless, and then I just _talk_ to you, _all night_. About _feelings_.”

Alec snorts. “Yeah. I’d be feeling a lot more nervous about that if I couldn’t see the tent in your jeans right there. I doubt you’re planning a platonic evening here.” And he glances up at his wrist, encased in silk, tugs once, experimentally but with no strength in it at all. When he turns back to Logan his pupils are flared and he swallows, not trying to hide his arousal.

He likes it. _Okay_ , Logan thinks. _That’s gonna help_.

He’s still staring though, running the other tie through his fingers, seeing again the light dusting of freckles across Alec’s shoulders, the tight expanse of his abs.

“Like what you see?” Alec’s voice is husky, and the corner of Logan’s mouth tugs sideways in a smile.

“You know I do.”

He smiles, too, but it’s forced. Physical compliments are always gonna be hard for Alec to accept. It’s all too tied up in Manticore.

“Yeah. You and a thousand others,” is what he finally says and _whoa_.

Logan rears back, flicked on the raw and totally unprepared for it. “I am not one of them, I am _not like the others_ ,” the words grind out of him without permission, raw and low and shaking with rage.

Alec is already moving toward him, reflexes lightning fast. “Shit, _no_ , babe. I didn’t mean-” his one free hand extends out to Logan, wrapping around his neck, trying to draw him close. Logan is pulling away and for once Alec uses his superior strength, dragging Logan down onto the bed.

“Don’t _ever_ -”

“I know you’re not-”

“I _don’t want_ -”

“That’s not what I was-” and the overlapping words, most of them nonsense somehow take the edge off, Logan gulps in a deep breath and closes his eyes, aware of Alec’s face pressed up against his, breathing him in, one arm crushing him close.

“It’s okay. It’s okay.” Alec is timing his breaths with Logan’s.

“Shit. Sorry.” It’s all Logan can say. Because while he couldn’t exactly help his reaction, it didn’t take much to see that it had to be making Alec feel like hell.

“It’s okay,” he says again.

Logan shakes his head, just a little. This was not a conversation he’d wanted to have. Not tonight, anyway.

He takes a breath. “Wow. Suddenly I discover I’m a little possessive.” He tries for a light tone, thinking Alec will jump at the chance to get out of this situation.

“Logan.” He leans back and their gazes lock and for once Alec is totally serious. “I’m here. You understand? I’m here,” he touches his free hand to his chest, flattening it over his skin with enough pressure to leave a mark. “I’m _here_ , _with you_.”

And Logan does understand, suddenly. Gets that Alec can’t say _I chose this, I choose to be with you_ or _I’m not pretending I’m somewhere else_ because if he says those things he’s admitting what was done to him, what he’s done in the past.

“Yeah,” he replies, huskily. “I understand.” And now there’s another host of reasons to get back on track for the night. He traces a hand over Alec’s face and it’s soothing, an apology. A tiny leap of Alec’s mouth under his fingers is enough to say Logan is forgiven.

Not that Alec would ever phrase it that way. Doesn’t believe he could ever be in a position to accept someone else’s apology – only ever to be _offering_ them.

Alec takes a deep breath and leans back, bringing his free hand between them now, palm up, offering. Logan’s heart is still pounding, he can’t shake off the adrenaline surges like the X5 can and maybe that’s why he hesitates.

“Are you sure?”

Alec’s eyes are dark and dilated. “I’m sure.” They stare at one another for a moment and then he says, lips quirking, “Show me what you got.”

Logan pushes on his chest and Alec lays back, relaxed as he ever gets, sure of what’s about to happen – that Logan’s gonna go down on him, give him a leisurely hand job maybe, or probably go to town and do everything, all of it, and he can handle that. Logan secures the second knot to the bedpost and then checks them both, tight as he can make ‘em.

“Okay?” He says again and Alec rolls his eyes.

“Yeah man, get on with it.”

“And if I want to go slow?”

Alec shrugs. “Then go slow. Whatever. I got no place else to be.”

“You won’t break free?”

“I won’t break free,” he repeats obediently, as if he already understands Logan won’t touch him until he agrees.

“You promise.”

“Christ, yes, I _promise_.” And now he sounds a little pissed and Logan can’t help it, he grins. It’s just so refreshing for _him_ to be the one annoying _Alec_.

Then, of course, he has to lean down and kiss him. That pursed up, annoyed mouth that drives him crazy day and night, always did, long before he understood all the other, _better_ ways it could drive a grown man crazy.

Alec lets out a small, satisfied sigh as Logan comes to rest on top of him, and he kisses back with his usual abandon. From on top, Logan can stroke that skin to his heart’s content and he does, tracing over shoulders and biceps and the soft skin between elbow and wrist. Alec makes another noise, something new, like a purr and Logan smiles against his lips.

“You like that,” he says, and Alec hums in agreement, not finished kissing yet. They are hard against one another, but utterly still, though Logan knows that won’t last long. Even as he thinks it Alec grinds against him, a tiny movement that sets off huge waves of sensation.

Logan pulls away from the kiss and travels down, licking and biting at throat and collarbone and ribs and navel. Alec is sighing and humming beneath him, body tighter the lower Logan goes, sure that his groin is the next target. But Logan just travels back up again, letting his own erection drag against the length of Alec’s leg the whole way, using his nails this time, increasing the pressure and feeling the other man’s reaction as he does.

“You gonna tease me?” he murmurs against Logan’s mouth once they’re kissing again. “That the plan tonight?”

“I’m making it up as I go along,” Logan replies, and then dives in for an open mouthed kiss, giving it all up, tongue diving deep and filthy and he can feel Alec pull against his bonds for the first time, arms reaching for him on automatic.

He draws back, wanting to watch, and sees Alec register the reality of his restraints, mouth compressing in a line for a second before he lets his head fall back on the pillow, letting out a puff of frustrated air. “Grr,” he says, half-laughing. “Fine. Get back up here and kiss me again.”

“Maybe I don’t want to,” Logan says softly, and gets the stink-eye for his trouble.

“All right,” Alec says, silky smooth and playing dirty. “Then come _all_ the way up and fuck my mouth instead.”

 _Jesus_. Logan’s hips give an involuntary twitch and Alec laughs, low and knowing.

“You know you want to, babe.”

“I do,” he says. No point in lying. “And maybe I will.”

Alec raises his eyebrows. Hadn’t expected that. Then he licks his lips, raising the stakes. _Bastard._

Logan’s voice emerges low and rough. “You think if I do, it means you’ll be in charge?”

“I don’t really give a shit,” he says, and lifts his hips to rub against Logan. “As long as one of us is getting some, I don’t care who’s boss.”

“See… what I want, Alec,” he says, reaching down to unbutton his fly, “is to see what you like. What you really, _really_ like.”

“I like it all, sweetheart.”

Logan looks away, not wanting the hurt on his face to be visible. Because that’s the kind of bullshit answer he can’t stand to hear, the kind that makes him feel like he’s one in a long, _very_ _long_ line of faceless, nameless fuckbuddies. And it’s the kind of answer that makes him more than a little crazy, more than a little reckless.

Which is probably why he says, “You like my cock? You want to swallow it down?”

Those green eyes flare. “Yeah,” Alec says, a little hoarse now. “You know I do.”

So Logan moves up the bed, braces his hands on the wall and lets Alec have it, lets him bring the heat and the pressure he’s been craving, but pulls away long before he’s ready to come.

“Hey,” Alec says, husky. “I wasn’t done there.” He’s straining against his bonds again, and he eyes Logan’s flushed face and bobbing erection. “And neither were you.”

“But this isn’t about me,” he says, drawing in deep breaths and trying for some semblance of sanity. He half-tucks himself back into his jeans, ignoring Alec’s pout as he leans down and kisses him, hard.

Maybe he should return the favor. So he reaches down behind his back and palms Alec through his jeans, feels the heat and the hardness, all of it just waiting for Logan and he has to swallow a few times before he can speak again. He slides down further and uses one hand to work Alec through his clothes while the other undoes his jeans. The words start spilling out, unbidden.

“You’re so hard for me. Hard and hot and tight. I can feel how bad you want it, Alec. Feel how bad you want me. It’s the-” he breaks off as Alec’s erection springs free, into his hand and he closes his eyes, loving the feel of it, the sensations, what it means that _this_ man is here _with Logan_.

“This is how it’s meant to be,” he says when he can speak again, and he opens his eyes to stare at Alec along the length of his body. He’s beautifully flushed, chest straining, eyes locked on Logan’s hand and his legs restless on the sheets. “What happens between us, it’s unbelievable. Like a forest fire, like a tidal wave. Drowning us both.” He leans down and nips hard at one hip, keeps murmuring, “You and me here, driving each other fucking crazy with our lips and tongues and hands and voices-”

Alec gasps. “Logan,” he says, and there’s a thin thread of distress in Alec’s voice that makes him stop immediately, sliding up until they’re face to face.

“Do you want out?” He reaches an arm up until he’s grasping the silk, eyes locked on Alec’s. He wants to do this, _so badly,_ but he can never forget for one second that Alec has had things forced on him his whole life, decisions made for him and Logan will never, _never_ bring that feeling into their bed.

But Alec calms the minute he’s offered an escape. Shakes his head, a small movement, his breath coming faster than normal. “No,” he says, and swallows. “I’m fine.”

 _Lie_ , thinks Logan.

“Just getting impatient, I guess. And this can’t be much fun for you.”

One eyebrow raised, Logan thrusts gently, their cocks sliding. “You think?”

He sucks in a sharp breath. “Okay. No. Clearly. But I don’t get-”

“I know,” he interrupts softly. And he lets his hand move away from the tie, sliding up to cover Alec’s hand instead, their fingers twining together and the slow uncurl of warmth in his gut at the sensation is something far more than sex. “You don’t understand what I’m doing.”

He shakes his head slowly, eyes wide, looking so young Logan can’t resist kissing him. It’s soft and slow and he’s probably undoing half an hour’s work here so he pulls back finally and says, “I’m seducing you.”

Alec blinks. “Seducing me?”

And Logan nods, knowing exactly what’s coming.

That familiar smartass half-grin tugs at Alec’s mouth. “You understand I’m a pretty sure thing, right?” And he tilts his hips against Logan, cocks rubbing against each other again and both of them catch their breath.

“I didn’t say arousing, Alec,” he says, working hard to form the words. “I said seducing.”

The grin slowly fades. “You don’t need to seduce me, though.” And he takes his chance to kiss Logan, open-mouthed. Then murmurs against his lips, “I’m up for anything, don’t you know that by now?”

 _Jesus, he’s good_. Tied up and wrung-out, and he still makes a good play for screwing up Logan’s game and getting back control.

“It’s not your body I’m seducing, though,” Logan says, raising his head and drawing back. He looks Alec dead in the eye.

“What do you mean?” And there’s withdrawal now, the guy’s too intuitive not to see where this is going and Logan’s on the knife edge here. If he makes a wrong move now Alec will shut down, all that fucking control springing up like razor wire.

“What I’m interested in is your mind.” And any other day of the week a statement like that would be drowned in sarcasm but tonight Alec sucks in a deep breath, staring wide eyed back at Logan.  “Because this body is beautiful,” he goes on without pausing, strokes his free hand down the side of Alec’s torso, thumb gliding over his hipbone, “and I could worship at the altar all night, so to speak, but the real you?” His hand slides up, tracing Alec’s throat, cupping his cheek, tracing round to sink into his hair, thumb rubbing over his temple.

“The real you is in here, and I _want_ ,” the word comes out guttural, Logan’s hips move just a half-inch, involuntary. “I want you. All of you, Alec.”

Alec’s chest is rising and falling with fast breaths, the only sign that he’s hearing this, that it’s having one hell of an effect.

“Which is why,” Logan says, suddenly casual again, “I’m going to keep on learning what you like, and seeing what works,” he sucks a hard kiss on the underside of Alec’s jaw, “until you completely unravel.” There’s a twitch beneath him as Alec tries to hold back a response and he grins, knowing Alec can feel it against his skin. God damn it. He does love a challenge.

He rises up on his hands and knees, squeezes Alec’s hand once more and then lets go, trailing that hand down until he can lay it over the spot where his own heart is thumping wildly. “I’m gonna make it good for you, babe. _I swear it_.”

Alec says nothing, just watches him with wide, wary eyes and Logan leans forward again, just a little. When he kisses Alec, there’s nothing held back, no reserves at all, just the absolute abandon he feels every time they touch. He draws back just enough to pant against Alec’s mouth, loving the tiny whine that escapes as the other man tries to follow him up, keep hold of the kiss.

“ _I’m gonna take you there_ ,” Logan says, low-voiced, and it’s a vow. “And its gonna be the _best you ever had_.” He lets the words sit there, sees Alec’s tiny, shaking nod and okay. _Okay_. This is going to happen.

Twenty minute later when he’s sucking a row of bruising kisses along Alec’s collarbone, there’s a little less understanding.

“Logan, come _on_.” He writhes beneath Logan’s thighs, and seriously, those jeans are never going to be wearable again because he’s going to rip through the damned button fly. Still, it’s in a good cause.

He drags his nails down the side of Alec’s torso and feels the little twitch he tries to hide. This time he moves right down to the other man’s feet, removes his boots and his socks, and he can feel some of the tension in the room drop, _at fucking last_ thank you God, some clothing is disappearing. But Logan just stays there, watching, as he runs his thumbs along the underside of Alec’s feet.

His toes curl. They actually curl. He keeps his breathing steady but there’s a spark there that he can’t hide.

“Hm.” Logan says softly. “Really?”

Alec throws his head back in frustration, moaning something at the ceiling, fists clenched against the silk and Logan grins. But Alec doesn’t move again and so he picks his way back up the bed, leaning over him on his hands and knees. Their eyes meet and Logan raises his brows.

“You _are_ going to _get me off_ ,” Alec growls, and his glare could cut through bank vault walls. He’s writhing between Logan’s thighs, one long sinuous move that he doesn’t seem to be able to stop, and his breath is coming in pants now.

“Of course I am, babe,” Logan says, all reasonableness. “Any minute now.” He doesn’t even attempt to hide the grin as he slides back down Alec’s body.

The other man’s “I swear to fucking _God_ -” is cut off abruptly as Logan takes his entire cock into his mouth in one smooth swallow.

“Ohhhhh,” his moan goes on for hours, and it’s the loudest Alec has ever been during sex. Logan grins around his mouthful of dick, feels his own twitch in response. This is what he’d wanted. This abandon. Alec totally unbound and uncaring – noisy and needy and begging for it, all of it, everything and _holy shit_ , Logan needs to derail that train of thought before his own orgasm swamps him.

He sets himself the task of tugging Alec’s jeans off as a distraction, and it’s no mean feat considering the other man is simply too far gone to help in any way. His hips are twitching helplessly at every draw from Logan’s mouth, and finally Logan pulls off with regret, quickly smothered by satisfaction at the whine Alec lets out.

“Logan-” he threatens, and it takes a hand on his balls to stop him.

“It’s okay, babe,” Logan soothes. “It’s gonna be okay. I’m here, I’m not leaving you high and dry, you know that, right?”

“Stop fucking _talking_ ,” is all Alec will say, trying to sit up so that he can use the full force of his glare and holy God, the bedposts are not going to cope with that kind of strain for long. Logan whips Alec’s jeans downs his legs and grabs a pillow in one smooth move. It’s shoved under Alec’s hips in one second flat.

“I got you,” he says again, running a hand down Alec’s dick. He gets his fingers nice and messy with precome and then takes him back into his mouth, loving the way Alec gets even louder this time. Logan’s name, pleas and curses spill from his lips in a hoarse string. He waits almost a minute, mouth deliberate and slow, and then slides one finger in, feels Alec spread his legs, tilt his hips, practically begging for more but Logan doesn’t give it. Not yet.

“Logan. Oh, God, _Logan_ ,” he’s moaning, hips in constant motion and that’s _it._ Logan pulls off, raises his head, watching, then curls a finger, hitting the spot if Alec’s cry is anything to judge by.

He waits a beat and then bends his head even further, snakes his tongue inside without any warning and Alec huffs out a shocked, broken sound, no words for this latest sensation, just the shaking of his legs and the straining of his body, one long line of pleasure. Logan closes his eyes, feels his own orgasm beginning to uncurl just from knowing he’s the cause of this, and keeps his finger working in concert with his tongue.  

“Oh God, oh _please_ , oh _fuck_ ,” and Alec slams his head back against the mattress, the strain in his voice telling Logan he’s almost there. He manages a second finger, somehow, stretching Alec wider and draws back, wanting to watch this orgasm bloom.

“Logan,” Alec keens, “ _please_ , Logan.”

He leans up, meets those green eyes, bright with need.

“You. Please. Logan. You.” It’s all he says but Logan knows what he means and he withdraws his fingers. He gets the condom and lube on with shaking fingers, listening to Alec’s gasping breaths and then he’s there, fingers brutal on hips, sliding home like it was always meant to happen.

“Fuck. _Yes_ ,” Alec gasped, raising his hips and wrapping his hands around the ties. “God, just-”

But Logan needs no encouragement. He couldn’t stop if he wanted to, slamming into Alec like it’s the only destination he’ll ever know and it’s probably only seconds before he’s gone, they’re both gone, hurtling over the edge into a delirium like he’s never known, a flash of white behind his eyes and the sound of Alec shouting his name, triumphant.

 

 


	8. I and I Am A Headcase

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He mopes around the house like a moron for days. Doesn’t answer the webcam calls, doesn’t shower or shave, doesn’t strip the bed either, just lays there wallowing in it, cursing himself for being such a control freak, such a goddam know-it-all.

For all the thought he’d given this, he’d given almost no consideration to the aftermath. Because, of course, there’s always an _after_.

So when he finds himself, weak and shaking, curled around Alec in the bed they’d almost destroyed a few minutes ago, Logan is unprepared for the complete and utter panic attack that springs up.

Alec is lying on his side, facing away. Still drawing in huge breaths, still trembling slightly from the intensity of what he’d – they’d – just been through.

Still, it had been Logan’s idea. Logan’s _doing_. Alec had signed up for some light bondage, that was it. It had been Logan’s idea to take him to fever pitch and smash down the walls Alec had built.

And so Logan lay there, frozen and terrified, waiting for Alec to speak. To give him some sign that maybe he hadn’t ruined everything.

The silence goes on for, oh, _forever_. And he waits. Finally, Alec speaks.

“How did you know?” His voice is muffled, face half-buried in the mattress. Only then does Logan realize he’s no longer bound to the bed.

“What?”

He shifts just slightly, still not looking at Logan. “How did you know?”

Logan raises himself on one arm, staring down at the perfect lines of muscle framing Alec’s spine. That was a hell of a question. It cut through a shitload of layers, too. Typical Alec.

“I didn’t,” he finally answers. “Not really. I just-”

He hesitates. How much more did they want to get into tonight? “I just felt like you were holding back. That’s all.”

“Well I guess you sure fixed that,” he says, and his voice is flat.

Logan can feel it all spiraling out of control, and he takes a quick breath. “Alec-”

“Yeah, and I think I’d better go.”

He’s sliding out of the bed before Logan can get any more words out. “Alec, _wait_.”

He’s gathering clothing, facing the window and Logan gets up, not bothering with clothes, just knows this is going as badly as possible.

“You said it’d be the best I’d ever had,” he says, shoving his legs into his jeans. “And you’re no liar. It was.”

“Alec.”

“But I never asked for that,” he says, voice low and shaking. He gathers his boots in one hand, t-shirt in the other. “And you had no right-”

“Please don’t go.”

He shakes his head once, hard. “I can’t stay here. I can’t stay.”

“Alec, I’m _sorry_. Please. Don’t leave like this.” The words meet empty air.

 

 

 

 

 

 

He mopes around the house like a moron for days. Doesn’t answer the webcam calls, doesn’t shower or shave, doesn’t strip the bed either, just lays there wallowing in it, cursing himself for being such a control freak, such a goddam know-it-all.

He has a momentary panic attack on the second day, suddenly terrified Alec hadn’t just left _Logan_ but Seattle in general – _if this all goes south_ ringing in his ears – and he’s halfway to Terminal City before he remembers he can use a goddam phone and he trumps up some bullshit excuse to confirm that Alec is indeed, still in Seattle.

On the fourth day, Joshua shows up.

He wrinkles his nose and glances around the room, eyes a little wild, and when _Joshua_ objects to your hygiene, then you know you’re in trouble. Logan stares down at his feet, wishing he could summon the energy to be embarrassed. Instead he just lurches into an armchair – the same one Alec had been slumped in that night.

“Logan sick?”

He shakes his head. “No.” Then he drags in a deep breath, knowing he owes Joshua more than that. “I’m not sick, Joshua. I just.” He runs out of words and stares at the wall some more. “I made a mistake. And I don’t think I can fix it.”

Joshua doesn’t move for a long time. Then he crosses the room and forces one of the windows open, letting in some fresh air. He turns back immediately – it was a hard learned lesson never to linger at a window, even in this familiar old neighborhood – and leans against a different wall.

Finally, he says, “Alec will come back.”

Logan just blinks. Blinks some more. Then tilts his head to the side to stare up at the transgenic. “How did you- wait, what? Come _back_? He’s _gone_?”

“No-no,” Joshua spreads his hands in a wait-calm-down kind of gesture, eyes wide as Logan scrambles out of the armchair. “Logan cool it. Cool it, yes? Alec still around.”

“Then what-”

“Back _here_. Back to _Logan_.”

He’s frozen, half-standing, staring at the equivalent of the dog-faced boy, waiting for his heart to find its way back into his chest.  When it does he drops into the chair and lets his head thump back against it.

He’s not anywhere near ready to address the complicated series of – _how did you_ and _you’re okay with it_ and _does anyone else know_. “Christ,” he says, staring at the ceiling. “I’m a mess.”

Joshua doesn’t answer, never one to waste words.

“Is he all right?” Logan finally whispers. It’s the question he’s been too afraid to think, until now. Too afraid to wonder what kind of damage he might have done.

And the silence, the longer it stretches, is pure torture.

Right. Of course. Of course he’s not fucking _all right_.

“Alec… hiding,” Joshua finally says. “Hard to tell.”

And Logan just knows how it is. He’s seen _that_ Alec, fresh out of Manticore. And after Rachel, too.

Hidden away behind a shell as tough as a beetle’s carapace. Able to survive anything – wind and weather, predators and natural disasters. But apparently not a careful and intimate dissection at the hands of someone he trusted.

He strips the bed after Joshua leaves, knowing he has to make some kind of step forward and this is all he can manage. He showers, too, but that’s apparently as much as he had in the tank, because he falls asleep face down on the bare mattress, dressed in only a pair of sweats.

He wakes in the middle of the night to the sound of rain and doesn’t move for a long time. Then he pushes himself up with a grunt and rolls onto his back. He stares up at the ceiling, lets out a miserable breath and presses the heels of his hands to his eyes.

Then something makes him lift his head and he looks straight into a pair of green eyes, glinting at him from a dark corner.

He sucks in an involuntary breath, body bolting upright and then braces himself for the adrenaline surge. Because this one’s going to be a doozy. He fumbles around on the mattress for his glasses and slides them on, wanting another layer of clarity in the dreamy darkness.

Alec is here. They stare at one another through the black while Logan’s heart tries to thud its way out of his chest.

The transgenic’s voice, when it emerges, is low and carefully controlled. “Joshua said you weren’t doing so well.”

“Joshua?” Logan’s blinking, trying to figure out what the hell just happened. “Joshua said?” Then he laughs, a little bitter, suddenly sure there’s only one reason he would get the chance to see Alec again, talk to him again. “I’m dreaming.”

After a moment Alec takes a step forward, then another until he’s standing in front of Logan, who reaches up, hand shaking, to grasp his forearm.

It’s warm and strong beneath his fingers, damp from the rain, and he closes his eyes for a second as a long breath escapes him. “Not dreaming.” Logan’s fingers form a circle, loose, and he lets Alec’s arm trail through his fingers when the other man steps back.

He can’t hold him. Logan already knows that.

Alec backs up to lean against the dark wood of the wardrobe and there’s silence until Logan says, low, “I can’t really just apologize, can I? It goes a lot deeper than that.”

For a long time, nothing. It’s almost funny that Logan, now, has learned to ask questions the way Alec does. Cutting through all the layers.

Finally Alec says, “I need to know why. Why you did it.”

Logan sighs. He scrubs his hands over his face, slow, trying to find exactly the right thing, the magic phrase that will make it better.

When he speaks, the word tastes bitter. “Pride.” There’s more silence. “Pride, I guess. Is what it boils down to.”

“Pride,” Alec repeats. But his tone says, _what the fuck?_

Logan shrugs. “Well, it’s marginally more attractive than saying I’m the world’s most arrogant asshole.”

“I don’t-“

“I know.” He sighs again. Stares down at his feet, thinking of how on earth to explain something he’s only beginning to understand himself. “Okay. I guess, I wanted, I was trying to make us more equal.”

“Equal.” There’s more of a reaction now, some processing going on. He frowns. “So we weren’t equal?”

Now Logan really does laugh, then stops when he sees Alec’s frown deepen. “Uh, no. Of course not.”

“I don’t understand.”

Logan takes another few breaths, adrenaline jolt finally beginning to recede and maybe that’ll help him get some clarity. He’s never actually put this into words before. Never thought he had to.

“Well, it’s obvious, isn’t it? I mean, I’ve had a few years now to get used to the idea. But basically, I’m surrounded by people who are exponentially stronger, faster, _better_ than me – by a long way. I’m so far behind I couldn’t even begin to compete. And that’s when my legs actually do _work_.” He manages to say it without sounding bitter, and he’s pretty proud of that.

He watches the movement of Alec’s legs as he straightens from his slouch, arms moving to his sides now, not folded. But he can’t make himself look up.

“All of which is old news. Really. And I’ve beaten it as best I could. I’ve tried to be-” he gestures a little wildly “-the intel guy. Another pair of eyes. I mean, I know the physical stuff isn’t everything, I _know_ that. I have brains and skills and I use ‘em, but-” he swallows, hard. “Especially when I look at the X7s, they’re just _kids_ but they’re more use than me.” There’s silence, and then he adds, “Sometimes it’s just hard to be the runt of the litter.”

He can hear Alec’s breath now, coming fast, which means something, but he forces himself to finish it. He stripped Alec bare, now it’s Logan’s turn. “I guess I just – I can’t handle feeling like that in our bed, too.”

“You felt like you were less than me?”

“I know I am,” Logan said, trying not to take the past tense as a knife to the fucking heart.

“Jesus fucking _Christ_.”

And Logan blinks. Alec doesn’t swear a whole lot, so he forces his eyes up to the other man’s face, braced for whatever he might see there. He doesn’t expect white-hot rage.

“You don’t _get it_ , Logan. You don’t even – you don’t _see_.” Alec steps forward, so intense the words are tumbling over each other. “You don’t see yourself and it drives me fucking _crazy_.” He slams a fist back against the wardrobe and makes a hole. Logan barely notices.

“You look at me and at Max and the rest of us like we’re something special and its _bullshit_. How can you not see that it’s not us – it’s _you_. If there’s a fucking hero at all inthis mess, then it’s _you_.”

“What?” He half-laughs, though his mouth is dry. Because there’s something in Alec’s eyes now that he hadn’t dare hoped to see ever again. Something that pushes him to his feet.

“You’re an ordinary man, Logan.” Alec gestured, “This body of yours, it’s so damn fragile compared to what you’re facing.  But you do it anyway.”

“The rest of us, we’ve got _every_ fucking advantage. Strength. Speed. Training. Weapons.  Tactics.  Combat. Every single _possible_ advantage over a guy like you that grew up safe and normal and clean.” 

Logan just stands there, utterly lost for words. Of all the things he’d pictured Alec saying, this hadn’t even made the rough draft of several long lists.

“And instead of staying safe, you’re out there fighting – you’ve _been_ fighting. For _years_. You had nothing on your side but guts and brains but you did it, while the rest of us were obeying orders or laying low, protecting our own asses, you were risking yourself for total strangers because you knew it was right.”

“And you’ve paid for it,” he gestured to Logan’s legs, “ _goddam_ have you paid for it but it didn’t stop you for even one second. No, instead you give up your fucking _personal fortune._ You’re-” he stops, frustrated and Logan can’t control his breathing anymore, has no idea where this stuff is coming from.

“Alec-”

But his voice seems to spur the other man on.

“You look at me like I’m something special when I go out there and do my stuff, and it’s the exact fucking _opposite_. I’m not _brave_ , Logan. There’s no courage required when you’re the monster of the story, when you’re stronger and faster and meaner than everyone around you.  _You’re_ the one with all the courage and I can’t stand it that you can’t see that.”

When he stops they’re both frozen, breathing heavily in the darkened room.

“I don’t- I have no idea what to say to that.” Logan finally says.

“Yeah, well, that’s because _you’re a fucking moron_ ,” Alec replies, clearly still cranky.

He just nods. “There goes my plan of relying on my brains.”

Logan waits, unsurprised when the X5 doesn’t speak until his breathing steadies. Control is always going to be important to the Manticore alum. But finally Alec asks the question.

“I still don’t understand – why any of that stuff mattered between us.” He gestures to the bed. “It’s not like – I didn’t think it was getting in the way – I mean, I thought what was happening was pretty great-”

“It _was_ ,” Logan cries, too loud in his haste and he’s reaching out now. “God, it was, I didn’t mean.”

Oh, just _hell_.

 _Man up, Cale_ , he tells himself, and raises a hand, asking for time. Seconds tick by and there’s no easy way around this. He swallows, eyes closing and says carefully, “When you touch me-” he sighs and forces himself to just give it all up. “When we’re together, the whole world drops away. There’s nothing – I can’t _think_. Can’t do anything but react. I have no control.”

There’s silence for a moment and he’s pathetically grateful he doesn’t have to look at Alec as he says, “And I know it’s not like that for you.”

He stands there, facing away, waiting for some kind of bullshit denial and instead, finally, he hears a long, tired sigh. He opens his eyes as Alec sinks down onto the bed. A beat later he reaches up and drags Logan down beside him. They sit there, staring down at the scratched floorboards before Alec finally says on another sigh, “Fuck.”

“I have never heard you swear this much before,” Logan says, trying for conversational.

“Yeah, well, this is- this shit is not easy.”

“Agreed.”

Alec cups a hand over the back of his neck. Then he says, “You’re right. Okay? It’s not like that for me.”

Logan is already turning toward Alec when his meaning sinks in. His recoil is automatic, _that fucking hurts,_ even as a warm hand comes to rest on his forearm. Still, he tenses, and Alec says immediately, “It’s not about you, all right?”

He can’t hold back the derisive snort. _Oh my god. I’m living in a bad romantic comedy_.

“It’s _not_.”

And he’s clearly struggling with something here so Logan nods, pretending like he believes that bullshit only of course it’s Alec he’s talking to, and he sees through _everyone’s_ pretences because he has the equivalent of three PhDs in that stuff.

“It’s not _personal_ , Logan.”

And he can’t help but react to that, draws back in agony because it’s way too close to the _you and everyone else, babe_ moment that they _still haven’t talked about_.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Alec yells it at the wall, and then he’s on his feet, pacing. “Look,” he says, and stops like his throat’s been bricked over.

And that’s when Logan’s personal issues suddenly start to look very small. Because he knows exactly what puts that look on Alec’s face.

Only Manticore. And _oh, shit_ , why hadn’t he ever considered _that_ as the cause of this? Why hadn’t he realized what he was digging into when he set out to do this to Alec?

“ _Oh_.” He says, and a shaky breath drains out of him. “Uh.” And then, “It’s okay.” He gets daring, reaching out without permission for the first time tonight, to stand up, lay one hand on Alec’s shoulder and squeeze. “I get it.”

And Alec just stares up at him, face so miserable and eyes mutely saying _you so fucking don’t get it_ , and so he forces himself to finish it, to bring the skeletons out into the blazing light of day. “You’re saying… it’s not personal because it’s a result of your training. Right?”

Alec goes white and beneath Logan’s hand he twitches back, _away_.

“Right?” His voice is gentle and even. This is it, this is the part where he could not only ruin what they have, but fuck with Alec’s mind into the bargain. One wrong step here and Logan will absolutely raze the landscape of the man he’s just beginning to know.

Alec’s trembling now, whether it’s rage or fear or just remembered pain and conditioning, it hardly matters. So Logan waits, endlessly patient now that he knows the _why_ , and finally Alec gives one sharp nod.

 _Yes_.

Logan draws in a long breath, trying to filter all his rage into his lungs, keep it out of his voice and his hands and his eyes. He’s not terribly successful.

“Those _fuckers_ ,” he says, low and furious.

It’s not what he’d meant to say but it works on one level, it shakes Alec out of his frozen pain. He laughs, startled, and says, “Can I just say, I’ve never heard you swear like this before, either?”

It’s classic avoidance, but hey, maybe there’s a reason Alec adopted that survival technique. And he’s not out there murdering people for their teeth or starting a snake worshipping cult, so...

“Actually,” Logan begins, voice far too light, “I had the filthiest mouth of my entire journalism class. I may have been reacting against my upbringing. Possibly. I paid nearly seven hundred dollars into the swear jar of the college paper in my sophomore year.”

“You’re kidding.”

He shakes his head, and his grip on Alec’s shoulder is loosening, Alec is standing taller the longer they speak total crap. “Nope. Then I started doing Eyes Only.”

“So?” Alec looks curious in spite of himself.

“So a subversive broadcaster has to be absolutely controlled. You let yourself exaggerate or emote, just once, and they write you off.”

“And cleaning up your language did that?”

He shrugged. “I didn’t stop swearing on purpose. It just seemed to come with the new technique.”

“Huh.”

They stand there in silence for a while, and then Alec tips his head back to stare at the ceiling. “Logan,” he says and his voice is tight, “I can’t. I can’t talk about that stuff.”

He takes that in, considering, and then says softly, “Sooner or later, I think you’re gonna have to, Alec. To someone.”

There’s an instinctive headshake, and he lets his hand slide from shoulder to throat, thumb gently stroking Alec’s ear, the skin of his cheek, and oh God, to be able to do this again it’s everything. _Everything_.

He hesitates, wondering if he’s assuming way too much, but then Alec is leaning his cheek into Logan’s touch and he’s _here_ , most important and wonderful of all. He’s here. “Maybe we could – would you, if you want-”

He grinds to a halt and Alec is just watching, no help at all. Finally he gestures helplessly to the bed. “We could – to sleep,” he adds hastily, and one corner of Alec’s mouth twitches for just a second.

“Sounds good,” he says, and the words are heavy. Meaningful.

And they move to the bed in reverent silence, crawl across the mattress together on hands and knees, finally collapsing on their sides, facing, not touching, just staring at one another through the dark.

“I really am sorry for what I did, Alec,” Logan says, after a very long time. “So very sorry. I wish-” and he’s not sure what to say next. Where would you even start?

 _I wish Manticore had confined their training to ‘just’ killing._ Doesn’t really cover it.

 _I wish you’d never been forced to do anything against your will._ Again, missing some big points.

 _I wish the government wasn’t trying to exterminate you and your kind._ Not even close.

So he sighs and goes with what truth he has left. “I wish I had tried talking to you first.”

And Alec doesn’t speak, but he reaches out in the dark until their hands brush, then he slides his fingers higher until they cup Logan’s elbow, thumb stroking gently. After a moment Logan turns his own hand over, thumb pressing the same spot on Alec’s arm until they are twined together. Eventually his eyes close and he tumbles over the edge and into sleep.

In the morning Alec is gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For anyone who's following, rest assured there is an ending in sight! And in case anyone is wondering, the chapter names are based on Dark Angel episode titles.


	9. Heart Attack

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s been a long time since someone tried to distinguish between Eyes only and Logan Cale. Even he barely bothers anymore.

The sound is so faint it really should be ignored. But Logan didn’t survive this long in a shadowy world by ignoring things that are _probably_ nothing.

He palms his gun and takes a careful stroll around the house, slightly hamstrung by the knowledge that he could well be getting a visit from a friendly transgenic, since they’re all seemingly goddam allergic to using doors or phoning ahead. He’s totally not on board with shooting Dalton, or Joshua, or Gem by accident.

He’s almost cleared the whole house, _this_ _close_ to relaxing when he peers down the basement stairs, takes a few steps and just about has a fricking heart attack.

“Alec?”

He’s just a dark shape in the corner, wedged between the washer and the wall, but Logan would recognize the shape of his shoulders, that profile, from anywhere. Crouched, still and silent.

“ _Alec._ ” He slides the gun away across the floor and hunkers down in front of the other man. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

His eyes have adjusted to the lack of light by now, and he can see the tiny movement, a shake of the head. “ _Alec_ ,” he says again, panic starting now. He grips the other man’s knees, squeezing tight. “Talk to me.”

His eyes finally track to Logan’s face, and he blinks, some awareness returning.

“Logan,” he says, a thread of sound. His voice comes out slowly, so tired. He blinks once, twice, like coming awake and draws a sharp breath. “I shouldn’t have come here.”

“Of course you should.” _Always_ , he thinks quietly to himself.

“No, I really shouldn’t have.” His voice is flat. Then he blinks, confusion filling his face. “It’s just. I don’t understand.”

“What?”

“I don’t understand this world.” He sounds bewildered, like a footballer trapped in a bridal store. “Back at Manticore, I understood.”

Logan draws a slow breath. It’s never a good sign when the X5 mentions Manticore.

“But I don’t understand _this_.”

“Understand what, Alec?” Using his name seems to help.

“We did plenty of fucked up shit,” he whispers, curled up over his knees. “We killed people, we blew shit up, we stole stuff, you name it and we did it. But–” he shakes his head, brow wrinkling again. “We always knew there was some _reason_ for it.” His voice is slow and thick. “We were protecting a source, or gathering intel, or gaining technology – there were reasons why we did what we did, even if we didn’t always know what the reasons were.

“But not this,” his voice drops away again. “Not like this. There’s no possible reason. I _don’t_ understand.”

“Tell me.” Logan swallows. “What happened.”

Alec gives him an odd look, like he’s missed a page somewhere in this book. “I killed him.”

Logan freezes.

“Today?” he asks carefully, wondering if this is a flashback of some kind. Alec doesn’t seem to hear.

He’s shaking his head.  “There was no reason for it. Something so _wrong_. _No_ _reason_.”

“Okay.” It’s like he’s not quite tuned in, but Logan tries again anyway. “Who was it? Was it military? One of White’s goons? Do you have a name?”

He gets a blank stare at that question. “A name?” Alec half-laughs, like it’s the craziest question of all time. “No. I don’t know his name.” Logan just nods, mind scrambling for a way in to wherever Alec’s thought processes have taken him.

“I could hear her. Five floors up but I could hear her crying.”

Logan frowns.

“There was no reason to do that,” he whispers. “He just _liked_ it.”

“Oh, shit.” And Logan, stomach roiling, begins to understand.

“She couldn’t have been more than ten.” And he shakes his head, face contorting. “ _I don’t understand._ ” Looks up at Logan, exhausted, his head thudding back against the wall. “I don’t understand this world.”

Logan closes his eyes. There’s no way he can explain something so unthinkable, either. He has to cling to facts now, and sort out the other stuff later. “Where’s the body?”

“I took care of it.” And his face contorts suddenly, that familiar expression as clear as neon. “It’s not like I’m an _amateur_ at this, Logan.”

“And it’s not like that guy was an actual human being,” Logan snaps. He hates it, _hates it_ when Alec gets that self-loathing look on his face.

“What about the girl?”

“I called Matt Sung.”

“You called the _cops_?”

“She was crying. Hiding. She wouldn’t come out. I couldn’t leave her there.”

“Why didn’t you call me?”

Another odd look. “I wouldn’t involve you in a _murder_.”

“You-,” he stops, swallows hard. “All right,” he tries to keep his voice calm. “You called Matt. Is he- did he see the body?” 

 _Are you a murder suspect?_

Alec shakes his head absently, like that’s totally unimportant.

“Nope. I dumped him first. Couldn’t leave him on the floor for her to see.”

Right. _Of course_. He’s almost dizzy from trying to work out Alec’s priorities.

“Okay,” he says, “okay. There’s nothing we can do tonight. Tomorrow I’ll reach out to some sources, maybe call Matt-”

“ _No_ ,” Alec says, and he’s on his feet in a blur, dragging Logan upright with him. “ _No,_ you _won’t_. You don’t _touch_ this. That’s not- I never should have–”

“I’m not leaving you to face-”

“ _No calls_.” Alec hauls Logan closer, eyes suddenly hard as steel, almost glowing in the dark. He tries to hide it, but Logan flinches from the implacable note in his voice as Alec says, “No visits to the morgue. No copies of the police report. This is a _crime_ , it’s nothing to do with you, or Eyes Only.”

“I’ve faced a lot worse than-”

“ _Don’t_ make me sorry I came here,” Alec grates out. “Don’t make me draw the line for you, Logan. You won’t like it.”

“What the hell does that even mean?”

“It means that not everything I do is connected to your _business_.” Alec shakes him, “This isn’t police misconduct, or political corruption, or anything that concerns Eyes Only. I didn’t come here for Eyes Only, I came to _you_.”

Logan blinks. It’s been a long time since someone tried to distinguish between Eyes only and Logan Cale. Even he barely bothers anymore. Still, “You can’t expect me not to be worried about-”

“I expect you to trust me to take care of myself. This isn’t your problem to fix.”

“Then why come here? You can’t honestly expect me to believe that after you just executed someone you came here so I could – what? Hold your hand and tell you everything’s okay?”

The minute the words are out of his mouth he knows he’s said the wrong thing. Alec blinks, all emotion disappearing from his face. “No,” he says flatly, “of course not. That would be pathetic. Right? I should be way beyond caring about killing someone. It’s second nature to someone like me.”

“That’s not what I-”

Alec’s face is remote. “I was part of Manticore right to the end. I never escaped, never even tried. They killed Rachel right in front of me and I kept right on doing their bidding. There’s no moral high ground for me to stand on. Only a bleeding heart like _Max_ can agonize over-”

“ _No_. Alec, _wait_.” There’s the clutch of panic at his heart.

“Wait for what?” he says, and his eyes are like winter. “I should never have come here. It was a mistake.”

Logan’s reaching hand comes up with empty air.

 

 

 

 

It’s some kind of progress, Logan supposes, that when he goes to Terminal City Alec isn’t hiding out. Of course, it could just be that the X5 is trying to avoid being compromised. He finally tracks him down in the room Alec and Dalton share, filled with treasures the two of them have _acquired_ over the past few months. Dalton is upstairs, arguing with Mole about storage space for _golf carts_ , of all things. That’s gotta be a story all its own, he thinks, as he steps through the doorway and into Alec’s room.

“Are you gonna let me apologize? And don’t-” he says sharply, “even _try_ to fucking tell me I don’t have anything to apologize for.” He reaches back to double check the door is closed.

A ghost of a smile twitches at the corner of Alec’s mouth. “Okay,” is all he says. But his hands are carefully still, shoulders tight.

He takes a deep breath. “I messed up. I didn’t mean to imply that you- that you could just take people out without it bothering you.”

Alec shakes his head. “You weren’t so far off-” he begins and Logan closes his eyes.

“ _Don’t_ ,” he whispers, harsh. “Jesus, _please_ don’t pretend it doesn’t mess you up. I already feel like shit. I mean, unless you really _want_ to punish me, cos if you do, this is the way. I’m never gonna forgive myself for-”

“No,” he shoots back. “Logan-”

“And I deserve it, because I _know_ you, I know how hard it is for you to reach out at all-”

“It really wasn’t hard.”

“And then when you did I basically- _What_?” Logan stares. Because that had sounded hellishly like an honest reply.

“It wasn’t hard,” Alec repeats, voice low. “It’s not like I thought about it. I was on automatic pilot, to be honest.”

He draws in a deep breath, shaky as hell all of a sudden.

“Oh.”

And a sudden smile appears on Alec’s face. “Witness the miracle. Logan Cale struck dumb.”

He manages a smile at that one. “Yeah. Make a note of the date.” He takes a deep breath. “Look, the thing is, I hurt you because of my own crappy issues. It wasn’t about you, wasn’t me thinking that you’re some kind of unfeeling-”

“I know that.”

“Because I don’t. Think that.”

“I know that.”

“But you’re right. I find it hard to… step back.”

“Crusader is your default setting, you mean.”

He is surprised into a sharp bark of laughter. “Okay. That makes me sound kind of- _hmm_.”

He’s got no way of finishing that sentence, and Alec is eyeing him with a kind of amused affection that muddles his brain processes anyway. He shrugs instead. “Yeah. I have trouble not taking action when there’s a threat to someone I -”

And then he just stops. Alec too. They’re both frozen.

 

 

The silence stretches like a rubber band, the certainty that when it reaches the end and snaps back it’s gonna sting like a bitch. Alec has absolutely no frickin’ idea what to do next. Can’t finish that sentence in his head, not to save his own life. He goes purely on cowardly instinct instead and says, “I have to go.”

Logan goes very still and Alec hesitates, but when the other man doesn’t speak, forces himself to go on. “I don’t know how long I’ll be gone-”

“What?” He hits panicked in about two seconds flat, Logan’s hands clutching at Alec’s arms. “You mean – going _away_? Where? Why?”

“It’s okay,” Alec soothes. All right. He could have handled this better, no doubt. If only he couldn’t still hear Logan’s voice echoing in his head _a threat to someone I…_

“No,” Logan’s head is shaking. “ _No_.”

“Logan, it’s all right. There’s just something-”

“ _Don’t_ ,” he says, and fuck it, he’s just begging now.

Alec feels the world shift unsteadily as Logan continues. “Don’t leave. I’m the one who keeps messing up.” He draws in a deep breath, “If you can’t stand things this way, _I’ll_ go. It’s not safe out there for transgenics and the others need you here. I can be gone by the end of the day, if that’s what you-”

“Babe, no. _No_ , that’s not it. Stop.” His voice is shaking and there’s nothing he can do about that. He wasn’t prepared for this, Logan laid wide open, panicked at the thought of Alec leaving.

Logan keeps going, mumbling something and so Alec just presses forward, lips on lips, hands on shoulders, walks forward until they are pressed against the wall, “Stop-stop-stop-stop-stop sssshhhh now, listen to me.” Alec cups the side of his face and forces Logan to meet his gaze. “It’s not like that.”

“Right,” Logan snaps, “of course not. You just suddenly have a pressing high school fucking reunion to attend at the other end of the country.”

“Oh my God,” Alec says, shaking his head, “you are _mean_ when you’re pissy.”

“I’m _NOT_ p-”

“I’m not leaving because of you, or because of last night. I just have something to take care of that can’t be done in Seattle.”

“Something to take care of that just reared its head this week?”

“No,” he admits. “I’ve known for a while I had to do it, but-”

Logan throws up his hands, triumphant.

“But it’s not your _fault_ that I’m leaving. Fault implies something is wrong.”

“Something _is_ wrong if you’re leaving Terminal City. They need you there.”

“They can do without me for a while. Max is handling things, she has Joshua and Mole and you to help her. This is something I need to do.” Inspired, he adds suddenly, “I’m taking Dalton with me. So…” _So_ _you know I’ll come back_ , he doesn’t say. The message seems to get through anyway, tension ratcheting down a notch.

There’s a momentary pause.

“Fine,” Logan says, folding his arms. “Explain to me about this _thing_ you need to do all of a sudden.”

Alec rolls his eyes. “It’s just a thing,” he says again.

“Sorry, that’s not vague enough. Do you want to speak in a language I actually don’t understand to make it more obscure? Try Farsi. Or Urdu. Mandarin, maybe.”

“Like I said, _pissy_ ,” Alec mutters. He’s gazing, narrow-eyed, past Logan’s left shoulder, trying to figure out what exactly he can say so that the other man will let him leave Seattle.

No, wait - what?

 _Let_ him leave? Fuck _that_.

But when he glances up at Logan he knows that uncensored thought was one of those uncomfortable truths he’s spent his life running from. _Yes_. He’s screwed it all up that badly - let Logan in _that_ far. Finally he blows out a breath and starts the it’s-the-truth-just-not-the-whole-truth tango.

“Okay. It’s like this. There was an op, back before Max blew a great big hole in the side of Manticore. I was part of it, and some people got hurt. Good people.” He slants a gaze at Logan and the lack of suspicion there lets him relax for a moment.

His voice is softer when he adds, “What happened to them – it’s still hurting them. And I can put it right.”

“Why now?”

He sighs. Steps back and drops into a chair. Son of a bitch. Why does he have to ask _these_ questions? Alec scrubs his face with his hands and when he does speak, his voice is very soft. “Because things have changed. We’re not messing around anymore, are we?”

Logan just blinks at him, and he flounders on, making a bigger mess. “This is – something real. Now. Isn’t it?”

“Yes,” he murmurs back, very soft.

“And if I want this, then I have to be worthy of it. Worthy of a man like you.”

There’s a moment of silence where Alec hears his own words echoing in his ears and shit, that sounded like a lot more than he’d meant to say- he scrambles to his feet, panicked.

“Unbe-fucking- _lievable_ ,” Logan is saying and Alec chokes on his own startled laugh. Never gonna get used to Logan’s rediscovered potty-mouth.

“What?”

“Did you _rehearse_ that or something?”

“What? No. Wait- _what?_ ”

He’s walking forward, pressing Alec against the door by the time he finally speaks. “That was,” he says, lips against Alec’s ear and he can’t suppress the shiver, “without a doubt the most perfect chick-flick movie moment I’ve ever witnessed.”

Alec’s not sure if he’s more horrified or flattered, so he just concentrates on Logan’s warmth instead. If in doubt-

He shoves his tongue down Logan’s throat and grinds their hips together.

 

 


	10. And Jesus Brought Lasagne

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Turning Logan’s home into some kind of fortress is probably Alec’s version of a valentine written in the white sand of a tropical beach. What he hadn’t been prepared for was the bone-deep satisfaction on Dalton’s face, or Gem’s when they’d seen the finished product and known the house could better withstand automatic gunfire.

 

“That’s a lot of lasagna,” Gem says, staring down at the dish.

“I know.” Logan tosses a cloth over one shoulder and shrugs. Stares down at it, too. “It’s kind of hard to make a small amount of lasagna.”

“You do understand that she’s only just starting on solid food, right? So basically all this food is for you, and me.”

They glance at each other, then down at the dish again.

“Maybe there’s someone-”

“I could call-”

They both break off, grinning, at the same moment.

“Okay,” Logan says, digging his phone out of his pocket. “I’ll make a call.”

“How about Alec?” Gem says lightly as she rounds the kitchen counter and heads for Skye. “He probably didn’t get too much home-cooked stuff while he was away, and he’s always good company.”

Logan shoots a narrow glance her way but she’s bending over the baby. He hits speed dial and waits for the connection.

“Yeah.”

“Hey, it’s me.”

“Yeah,” Alec says again and Logan rolls his eyes.  Three weeks apart hadn’t changed their dynamic much. Though the first night back had definitely been one to remember. He shifts slightly, feeling the twinge as he says, “You got dinner plans?”

“Not yet. Do I have dinner plans now?”

“I appear to have made about thirty pounds of lasagna and Gem and I don’t feel quite equal to the task. You interested?”

“I am always interested in food, you know that, man.”

“Yeah, I thought so. Bring Dalton.”

“But he might eat some of the lasagna.”

“That would be the plan.”

“Fine,” Alec sighs, long-suffering, and Logan can tell by the sound of it that Dalton is right there, listening.

“I’m putting it in the oven now,” he adds. He glances down at the dish and sighs. “Maybe bring Joshua, too,” he adds.

“Give us time to get out of TC, and add ten minutes to rob a liquor store. Red wine, right?”

“Don’t rob-”

“Kidding,” Alec says, and hangs up. He does it just to be annoying, Logan knows this. But still, he’ll be taking a careful look at any bottle of wine that finds its way here. He might even ask for a receipt.

Just to be annoying.

 

 

He’s juggling the baby and a corkscrew when they arrive, and Alec’s raised eyebrow gives him the hint that it’s probably not a good combination. He glances down at the pointy end of the corkscrew.

 _Right_. Then he sighs. This kid stuff is complicated.

The  corkscrew hits the bench with a clatter and he hoists Gem a little higher on his shoulder, whereupon she squeals at catching sight of the new arrivals. Dalton holds up a finger for her to grip, one corner of his mouth curving up.

“No Joshua?” Logan asks Alec, who is watching the two kids with a gentle fondness that would have horrified his Manticore handlers. It never fails to get Logan going, though, to see how far the man has come from the just-following-orders guy he used to be.

“He was in the middle of a new _Joshua_ ,” Alec says, and waves a hand in some kind of mockery of painting. “Didn’t want to disturb the flow, or something.”

“You can take the leftovers back.”

“That’s what I told him.”

Dalton has extricated himself by now and Alec steps up in turn to greet the princess. She bats at his face with her usual enthusiasm, and he doesn’t goo at her like most others do, just holds still for the benediction. His hand comes up to rest at the small of Logan’s back, hot and heavy and out of sight of the others.

Logan doesn’t speak, just draws in a long, slow breath, eyes closing.

They’re frozen for a second, and then Gem steps back into the living room, saying, “I swear, Dalton, if you can get toilet paper that soft for Logan, why are _we_ stuck with-”

“Quantity,” Dalton shoots back and it’s an old familiar argument that has Logan grinning into the baby’s neck.

“I brought the wine,” Alec says, raising his free hand. He still hasn’t moved and Logan can feel himself getting warmer, but there’s something so good about the nearness of him and the gentle bickering coming from the living room, the scent of the baby in his arms and the candles Gem had brought decorating his shabby table…

“I’m glad you came,” he says, very softly, and the words are a substitute for something much larger. Alec knows it, the hand on his back presses closer for a moment. “I’m glad you’re here.”

Alec’s eyes close for just a half-second, lips pressing together. It’s the only tell Logan’s gonna get that he, too, is affected. “You know me, man. Anything for a hot meal.”

“ _Anything_?” Logan murmurs, and they break apart in the same moment, Alec’s color a little higher than it should be.

“You have a receipt for that wine, right?” Logan says, his tone back to normal as he bends to set Skye on her feet, watch her toddle along the kitchen cupboards.

He knows without looking that Alec is rolling his eyes, that Dalton is grinning and making mental notes about whether Logan approves of this bottle. He probably has a personal contact at a vineyard somewhere by now, knowing that kid. It’s kind of terrifying to think what he’s gonna do when he has some real experience behind him.

Dinner is easy and full of laughter, nothing like the dinner parties he used to give but much more fun. It’s messier and a lot less glamorous for one thing - the sun goes down and instead of gazing out at Seattle by night from the sixteenth floor, they close the reinforced steel shutters Dalton mysteriously acquired and then even _more_ mysteriously couldn’t find a use for at Terminal City.

He flicks a glance at Alec that says _don’t think I’ve let this go, buddy_ , ignoring the twitch of amusement on the X5’s lips and the answering ball of heat that comes from being cared for, being protected. It’s not easy for a transgenic, Logan knows this. Turning Logan’s home into some kind of fortress is probably Alec’s version of a valentine written in the white sand of a tropical beach. What he hadn’t been prepared for was the bone-deep satisfaction on Dalton’s face, or Gem’s when they’d seen the finished product and known the house could better withstand automatic gunfire.

He shakes his head and raises his glass to his lips. _How is this my life?_

There’s no classical music playing in the background, blending in with the clinks of crystal and the pop of champagne corks. Instead Gem is laughing as Dalton entertains the baby, while Alec searches for a radio station that isn’t discussing the latest riot or transgenic-human relations. These transgenic-human relations are working out just fine, he thinks.

The dishes on his (crappy) table don’t match, they’re drinking out of wine glasses and jam jars, but it’s his mother’s lasagna recipe and for dessert, tiramisu with the purest fresh cream Dalton swindled from some hapless provedore just this morning.

Alec looks over as he finds a station, grins when the smooth tones of the Eagles ripple through the room. He winks even as he flings a hand behind him to guard Skye’s head against the corner of the table.

Somehow, everything’s perfect.

 

* * *

 

Alec doubles back to the house on the pretence of having left his phone behind. Dalton is completely distracted by juggling the leftover lasagna for Joshua and Max, while trying to broker a deal via text message, and Gem is humming soft sounds to the half-sleeping baby, so he pretty much makes a clean getaway.

This secrecy stuff is not simple.

Logan is halfway through a load of washing up when he pushes through the back door, and Alec raises his eyebrows at the amount of dirty dishes still in sight. Clearly lasagna does not make itself.

“Wow,” he says. Then cuts his eyes to Logan, who’s looking weary and a little flushed from the hot water. Alec’s heart melts a little, because he is apparently turning into a teenaged girl. Oddly enough, he’s not even sure he’s in the mood to get laid tonight, but he came back here anyway. He drifts forward, “Also, that’s a lot of hard work that can wait until morning.”

“It’s easier to clear it all up now-”

“Logan,” Alec says, his lips pressed to the taller man’s throat. “Step away from the sink.”

“But I’m almost-”

“I am asking your OCD to take the night off.” He mouths his way up to Logan’s jawline.

There’s a little huff of air and his body leans closer. “I should just finish-”

“Don’t make me take steps,” he murmurs against the other man’s mouth, and then there’s just the sound of water splashing on the edge of the sink, and the feeling of wet hands grabbing his shirt.

“God,” Logan breathes into his mouth, “you are… you’re fucking _gorgeous_ ,” he murmurs, “so damn beautiful.”

Alec’s breath hitches and he pulls back for a half-second. Then he closes his eyes and pretends he hasn’t heard. Nothing is gonna ruin this. Not even _that_. He covers Logan’s mouth with his before the man can apologize, before he can start a conversation about it. He dives so deep into the kiss he almost forgets himself.

They’re curled up on the couch together, still just lazily making out, when the words bubble up to the surface, a question he hadn’t even known he wanted to ask. “Logan?”

“Mmm?”

“Tonight. Dinner… is that-” he hesitates, feeling like an idiot.

“What?” Logan rolls toward him, glasses glinting in the dim light.

“Is that what… family feels like?”

There’s a beat of silence, pulsing with feeling before Logan says softly, “Yeah.” His hand tightens on Alec’s wrist. “Yeah, that’s just what family feels like.”

He nods, as if it’s unimportant. Like he’s just doing research. He knows that Logan knows better, of course, but he appreciates the hell out of being allowed to keep his fakery going.

A smile shapes itself against Alec’s throat as Logan adds, “Especially the part where you rotten bastards all scampered out of here and left me with the dishes. I’m gonna have to rectify that next time.”

Alec grins, liking the idea of _next time._ He slides his fingers along Logan’s arm, letting them rest against the crease of his elbow, where the tiny red dot remains from his latest transfusion.

“You like that,” Logan murmurs, sounding half-asleep. “Knowing your blood is in my veins.”

His eyes close, a tiny stirring of panic in his breast at being known so well. “Yes,” he finally says, thumb stroking over the spot.

“A little bit possessive, I think,” and Alec can hear the wry smile in his voice.

He shrugs, trying to get back on some kind of even footing. “Practical. I like knowing you’re stronger. Safer.”

“ _Riiight_ ,” Logan breathes it against his ear, and Alec rolls into the kiss.

 

 

 

He’s on the rooftop. The rifle is cool and steady in his hands. Down on one knee, braced on the low wall, he stares down the sight.

Across the street, in the window, White’s face is framed by the crosshairs. Alec breathes, controlled and even and lays his finger across the trigger. He has the shot.

He blinks once, slowly, aware of his heartbeat and the miniscule tremor it sends through his body. His finger curls around the trigger and the world slows to a near halt.

His finger curls.

A body moves between him and White.

His finger curls.

Shoulders, back, hips he recognizes.

His finger curls.

 _Nonononononono_ his brain is saying, trying to call back the impulse as it travels along the nerve ending, halt the movement but too late - he squeezes the trigger and the bullet is released, trajectory vicious and true.

“Logan,” he gasps, desperate. Hands are grabbing at his shoulders as he flings himself forward, off the building, he doesn’t care, he _didn’t take that shot_ , he _wouldn’t_ , he’d _never_ -

“ _Logan_ ,” he screams it now, knows the burst of blood and nerve and bone along Logan’s spine is already happening, “I didn’t - _No. NO_ -”

“ALEC, WAKE _UP_.”

He bursts out of sleep like he’s hitting the pavement, like he really did leap off that roof.

Logan is clutching his shoulders, fingers digging, mouth set in a grim line but there’s no sign of pain, no blood and Alec is gaping at him, completely lost for a few seconds until he processes all the signals. Darkness. Lying next to Logan. The strangeness-

Oh fuck, thank you God, a _dream_. Just a dream. Just.

The breath shudders out of him and he sucks in a sharp breath in reaction, trying not to hear how desperate he sounds, how broken. “Shit,” he manages, and tries to roll away, drop from the sofa to the floor.

Logan’s not having it. He keeps hold of Alec easily – good upper body strength for an ordinary human – and Alec is too disoriented to fight him just now. He takes the easy route and hides his face in Logan’s neck. The added bonus of his scent is too much to resist.

Those arms wrap tightly around him, legs tangling as well for good measure and there’s quiet while they just breathe into one another in the dark. He knows he won’t get much of a reprieve-

“What was it?”

He shakes his head, instinctive. Logan presses a kiss to his temple and repeats himself, calm.

Alec closes his eyes. He’s not gonna let this go. Finally, he sighs.

“I was on the roof again. With the rifle,” he says, and hopes that will be enough. Logan knows exactly how traumatic that memory is for Alec, maybe he’ll assume it was just an action replay.

Logan nods.

“And then what?”

Alec just shakes his head.

“What happened next?”

“What do you think?” he says wearily, and pushes away. “I shot one of my best friends. Leave me alone.”

Logan lets him go this time, rolls up to a sitting position, glasses glinting. There’s a long pause, and then he says, “It wasn’t Eddie you shot.”

And Alec blinks. He _knows_. No. He _can’t_ know. But he’s waited too long, given Logan a sign that his guess was right so he says instead, “White.”

Logan nods slowly. “Well, Ames is a good choice for the starring role in a nightmare.”

He looks away. Never gonna be comfortable with the word _nightmare_. Like he’s a weak, scared kid. He snorts softly, remembering the sound of his breathing from a minute ago. Okay, maybe he _is_ a scared kid on some level. But he can fake it until that fades away and the sun comes up. Manticore would never have tolerated-

He can almost feel rusty brain cells creaking to life as he embraces a new concept. _Let’s try to overcome Manticore’s shitty training, Alec, shall we?_

“Yeah, he’s a monster,” he finally says. Then hesitates, still turning over the idea that if Manticore thought nightmares were pathetic and stupid, in reality the opposite was probably true and he should maybe respect whatever it is Logan’s trying to do here.

“But it wasn’t White you shot, either.” Logan’s tone is carefully even.

And he just stares at that. Then finally, he gets it. He was shouting, not just in the dream, but in reality. Logan heard him cry out.

He turns his face away and Logan sighs.

Those arms come around him again and he’s drawn back to the sofa. He can’t resist – well, he _doesn’t_ resist – because he needs the comfort. Something inside him is still shaking.

“You didn’t hurt me,” Logan murmurs, “you wouldn’t. You’d never.”

A long breath eases out of his lungs. He wishes he could feel so sure. He hasn’t told Logan yet that he is leaving Seattle again. Tomorrow. And he sure as shit hasn’t told him _why_.


	11. Bella Loco

His phone rings and when he draws it out of his pocket Alec stares down at the screen. Logan calling.

He answers, even though the timing is bad, because he knows Logan worries. The guy honest to God _frets_ when Alec is away from Seattle.

“Yeah,” he says.

“It’s me.”

“Yeah.” He does it on purpose, can picture exactly the look on Logan’s face, hear the almost-silent sigh at his lack of phone etiquette.

“There was something I meant to say,” he begins. “I wanted to tell you, this morning… but then-”

“Yeah, I know,” Alec says. Dalton on the porch at the crack of dawn. Since they share a room at TC the kid’d know Alec had spent the night, so instead he’d vanished out the kitchen window with a hurried promise to be careful while he was away.

“Look. I’m sorry.”

“What for?”

“For um, before. The um, whatever. Last night.” Alec frowns. Logan never sounds this disjointed. Always articulate, that’s him.

“I just wish I hadn’t said. I mean, I know you don’t like, that kind of thing, when I said you were, beautiful.”

“Oh.”   _Ohhhh_.

“Yeah. I’ll um. You know. Try to stop.”

Blank astonishment holds him still. “No. No, man, don’t do that.”

“It’s okay.”

“No, L-” He takes a deep breath and casts a glance around. There’s no-one, but he heads outside and up anyway, feet clattering on steel stairs as he runs. “You don’t need to-”

“Alec, I do. It’s something that bothers you and I’m aware of that, so-”

“ _Don’t_.” He bursts through a door and onto the roof. And now he’s sounding too harsh but he has to say it. “I don’t want you to- to censor yourself.”

“Alec-”

“I’m serious.”

“But you d-”

“ _Logan_.” He stops himself before his mouth can run away with him and say something stupid. But when he starts again it happens anyway. “Listen to me. You’re – look, your honesty is one of the best things about you. You should – when we’re like that, I don’t want you holding back or trying to- just _don’t_.”

There’s silence.

“I – oh. Um. Okay.”

He lets out a deep breath and sinks to the ground, leaning against an outer wall. He’ll hear the car when it pulls up. They sit there, together, listening to the silence.

“Alec.” And in the hesitation Alec can just tell Logan’s biting his lip.

“Yeah?”

“Look, I don’t know if this will help or not but… you do understand what I mean when I say that stuff, right?”

Alec blinks, flushing. Thank _Christ_ no-one can see him. “Uh. Yeah. I mean, it’s pretty self expl-”

“No. It’s really not. If I say, if I say you’re gorgeous,” and it’s pretty clear Logan’s embarrassed to be saying it just cold like that, but he keeps going manfully, “you need to understand I’m not paying a compliment to Man-” he stops. Mole’s paranoid warnings have borne fruit. Manticore could be listening at any time.

“I’m not thinking about Monty. Do you know what I mean?”

“I – sure,” he says helplessly. Monty Cora. That stupid nickname just keeps coming back to haunt him.

The little huff of air tells him Logan isn’t buying that response.

“Let me put it this way. Do you– if I’d met Ben. Do you think I’d have gotten tangled up in an alley with your twin brother? If – if he hadn’t been…”

 _…completely off his head killing people?_ Alec finishes silently. He presses a hand to the back of his head, staring down at the concrete and gravel beneath his boots. If Logan met Ben… then what?

“You think someone else with your face would do? Would affect me the same way?”

Alec swallows. He’d never thought of it that way. Tried not to think about Ben much at all, to be honest. “I don’t- I don’t know.”

“Well I can pretty much guarantee he wouldn’t have. _I_ wouldn’t have.”

Alec lowers his head to rest on his knees, eyes closed. His belly is churning, but in a good way.

“When I tell you… Alec, I’m not talking about the physical stuff.” There’s a kind of exasperated sigh, and then an indistinct noise, and he pictures Logan tipping his head back, searching the ceiling above for inspiration. Maybe the water stains have a pattern and a purpose.

He rises up at the sound of a car, scans the street. Not the one he’s waiting for. He slides back down the wall.

“When you’re talking to Dalton about his latest scam,” Logan says, after a while, “you get this certain tone to your voice. You’re trying not let him know that you’re proud of him, but he knows you _are_ proud, and _you_ know he can see right through you.”

The corner of Alec’s mouth starts to curl.

“And then, there’s the way you duck your head when you’re admitting how bad you screwed up. Or the look in your eyes when I’m inside you and you’re right on the edge, just about to break…”

Alec is silent, breathing shakily.

“That’s what I mean when I tell you that you’re _so goddam beautiful_ -”

“Okay,” he finally manages. “Okay. I get it. You can, I mean…”

And now he can hear Logan smiling as he speaks. “Permission granted?”

“Screw you,” he says, laughing shakily. Then he glances up and over the wall and all laughter dies on his lips. His target is pulling up in front of the restaurant. “Listen, I have to go.”

He pockets the phone and jogs back down the fire escape, eyes on the black sedan as it pulls away from the kerb. He has precisely six minutes until the bodyguards are back. It’s time to reintroduce himself to the target, and seriously hope he doesn’t get shot.


	12. The Charm Offensive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You all had your specializations,” Logan says carefully, and listens to the younger man’s breathing turn ragged.  
> “Yeah. And we both know what mine was.”

“L-Lo-Logan.” The voice is distorted, low and shaking and grinding the words out from between clenched teeth, but he recognizes it in an instant.

“Alec?” His eyes close even as his brain kicks into gear, an instant collision of emotions versus logistics. Please-don’t-let-it-be-a-gunshot running along one level of his mind and beneath it was nearest doctor/nearest hospital/weakest sector checkpoints/accessible cash.

And _shit_. Alec’s almost certainly not back in Seattle. “What’s wrong?”

“Nee-n-nee-nee-nn-need,” is all he manages before Logan’s brain kicks back in.

“You’re having a seizure? You need some - meds?” Just in time he stops himself from saying _tryptophan_. Mole is the most paranoid mind they have, and he’s taken great delight in pointing out recently how their need for tryptophan is probably their big weakness. And if Big Brother has started listening to the phone lines, a word _that_ uncommon means he’ll find them in about thirty seconds flat.

“Y-yes. Yes.” In the time it takes Alec to spit out an answer, Logan has collected an emergency treatment kit from his kitchen drawer and a pint of milk from the fridge.

“Where are you?” Oh shit, please let him be _close_ to the city, at the very least. He swipes his keys and starts for the door. There’s no answer. “Alec? _Alec?_ ” Oh Jesus.

“Don’t-n-n-n-” The background noise is indistinct, could be Alec’s head slamming into something, could be a car accident, could be the snake cult, could be almost fucking anything but none of them good, and Logan turns on his heel, sprinting back to his bank of screens.

“Alec?” He’s pounding the keyboard one handed, glaring at the monitors like he can _make_ someone in TC answer the webcall right goddam now. “ _ALEC._ ”

“Logan?” Mole is frowning back at him a few seconds later.

“Alec’s on the phone,” Logan gestures. “He’s seizing. I can’t get a location out of him. Get someone there to trace the call coming in on my number, _now_. I can’t risk losing the line.”

For once, Mole is on exactly the same wavelength as Logan. He’s snapping out orders and Logan blocks it all out, concentrating on the vague sounds at the other end of the line, telling himself he can distinguish breath sounds, keeping up a low, calm run of speech so that if Alec is still conscious, if he’s still there he’ll know Logan’s with him, that help is coming.

“Logan?” A familiar face appears in the webcam. It’s Tori, the X5 who has become the defacto health professional to every single transgenic in Terminal City. “Alec’s seizing?”

He just nods, meeting her eyes. She bites her bottom lip. “Sudden onset?”

“Must have been,” he replies, taking the time to collect a fake ID and his old journalist credentials. No other explanation. If Alec had had any warning he was about to get sick, he’d have been in a position to call earlier, to give a location…

“He’ll need-”

Logan raises his free hand, showing her the kit he’s clutching like it’s the golden ticket and she nods.

“If it’s bad,” she says softly, “make it two doses in the first two hours, and then-”

“As much milk and chicken as he can stomach,” Logan finishes for her. They’ve all been briefed on the various types of tryptophan seizures she’s been seeing. Different intensities, different side-effects.

“Got it,” Mole shoulders in and sends Tori staggering. “He’s south of the city. We’re sending a map to your phone now. It’ll take you at least two hours to get there.”

“Take two kits,” Tori calls. “If he’s unconscious give him a double dose immediately.”

Logan pockets another kit and is out the door in seconds.

“Babe, I’m coming,” he calls into the phone as he screeches away from the kerb. “You just _hang on_. I’m coming.”

He moves through checkpoint after checkpoint, just about ready to scream by the last one, but then he’s finally out of the city and thick forest is streaming past his car windows. The call connection died – not _died_ , connection lost, that’s all – after the second checkpoint and all he has to go on now is belief in the toughness of transgenics and the stubborn surety that Alec has so many more people to piss off before his time is up.

When he’s five miles from the co-ordinates Mole sent through, he slows his speed and forces his brain back into gear, watching everything. There’s no break in the trees for a minor road, no debris from an accident (thank God), nowhere he could have disappeared to, and he’s half expecting to see an abandoned car or crumpled body by the side of the road but there’s just nothing.

He drives slowly past the spot, pulls over to let some impatient travelers pass him and keeps going for another few miles. Nothing.

He turns around and starts back the way he came, trying to think it through. The sounds.

He’d been in a vehicle of some kind. Had to have been, out here there’s nothing else that would have made the sounds Logan had heard. So… he’s in a car or a truck. He’s sick. Knows he’s not gonna make it. What would a soldier do?

Take cover.

Okay. This time he drives even slower, ignored the horns and the screamed abuse from the four-wheeler that passes him, and keeps his eyes trained on the greenery at the side of the road. He pulls over regularly and leans out, calls Alec’s name and listens.

Seven long minutes later he gets something. No sound, but a definite break in the shape of a low bush on the right and Logan parks as far over on the shoulder as he can. “Alec?” he pauses, straining his eyes and ears, then delves into the undergrowth. About three feet in the ground drops away and he stumbles down the side of an embankment, sliding knee first into Alec’s ribcage.

“Alec,” he gasps. The younger man is face down in the dirt, motionless. Logan turns him over, hands shaking and presses his fingers to the soft skin of his throat.

 _Beat-beat_. Pause. _Beat-beat_.

Logan’s eyes close for just a half-second as the world rushes back into focus. Then he drags the treatment kit out of his jacket pocket and pulls out the improvised epi-pen. A second later and the liquid tryptophan is coursing through Alec’s veins. He stays as he is, quiet, brushing dirt from Alec’s face while he waits the prescribed ten minutes. At some point he comes back to himself enough to text a quick message to Max’s phone, letting her know their current status.

By eight minutes Alec’s color is better. Skin warmer, breathing less thready. Logan hesitates, then hefts the other man into his arms. Tori’s observations had warned that coming out of this kind of near-coma could trigger more seizures. If he can get Alec into the car before the second treatment, it’ll be better all round.

He’s staggering from the effort by the time they get to the road, but with one massive heave he gets Alec into the car before he sags against it, gasping. He’s on the phone again as he arranges arms and legs in the passenger seat, and Mole answers, barking out directions to a cabin about half an hour’s drive from where they are. Apparently Tori hid out there on her way to Terminal City.

It’s not abandoned, but it’s empty for now and that’s enough. Logan peers around him in the gathering dusk, wondering what the hell he’s supposed to do to secure the place. Never more achingly aware of just how inadequate he is at all this stuff. Still, at least inside they will be warm, have water and food and a bed. If the owners show up, well, he’ll figure something out then.

 

* * *

 

“…a little more rest and you’ll be back to your charming self in no time.”

Alec flinches, and for just an instant there’s an expression of absolute agony on his face.

Logan grabs his hand. “What is it?”

“Nothing.”

“Hey,” he says, very soft. “I’m here. You can tell me.”

There’s a long silence, then he says, “Do you-” He swallows, drops his eyes to the sheets. “Am I-”

“What?”

“Charming. To you.”

Logan blinks. Couldn’t have been more taken aback. Why the hell is that important? Especially _now_. But it must be, and so he thinks it over. “Honestly-”

“Yes.”

“Honestly? No. I’ve never found you particularly charming. If I was asked to describe you in one word I’d have to go with smartass.” Some of the tension goes away with that one speech and he hesitates before asking. “What’s this about, Alec?”

There’s another long silence. He is toying with the empty glass of milk where it rests on the floor, carefully casual. Then, “The Charm Offensive. That’s what the others used to call me.”

“Who?”

“The other X’s.”

“Like… Biggs?”

Alec flinches at the memory of his dead friend. “Yeah. When we were deployed in a unit. ‘Unleash The Charm Offensive’.” He said it with air quotes and Logan couldn’t hold back the wince. But this is an opening he has to take.

“You’re very good looking,” he says, treading carefully. “Charismatic, I suppose.”

His face closes up and his voice turns bitter. “I am what they made me.”

“You’re a hell of a lot more than what they tried to make you,” he says roughly.

Alec blinks. “Anyway, it wasn’t because of my face-” And then he just stops.

Logan reaches up to stroke his skin. The curve of a cheekbone, the strong plane of his forehead drift by his fingertips and it seems to be more than Alec can bear. He turns his face away.

“You all had your specializations,” Logan says carefully, and listens to the younger man’s breathing turn ragged.

“Yeah. And we both know what mine was.”

“What they taught you – what they did to you. It’s not who you are, Alec.”

He doesn’t move.

“Do you understand the difference?”

He waits, as if thinking carefully. “I guess.”

 _No. You really don’t,_ Logan thinks _. But you will._ He shifts so he can see Alec’s face. “So you think – what? That you’re… dirty.”

There’s the tiniest flinch, and it dawns on him in that moment that this is probably a shitty thing to do to a guy who’s just recovering from serious illness. But then, if Alec wasn’t so weak, they wouldn’t be covering this at all, it’d be the usual ‘shields up’ bullshit. And this stuff is a serious illness all of its own, he can’t just let it be.

“You think you’re no better than a whor-”

“Is this supposed to be helping?” Alec shifts, blinking rapidly.

“I’m just trying to understand.”

His mouth twists, and his voice is flat when he says, “No.” And he flinches back until he’s no longer touching Logan. “You can’t – you don’t ever want to understand that, trust me.”

“I can’t understand? That’s garbage, Alec,” he says gently, “and I think you know it.” He waits, but there’s no reply. He takes a slow breath and continues.

“I’m not sure if it’s me you’re protecting, or yourself. If it’s me, then maybe I should remind you that Eyes Only has seen a lot of stuff over the years, so I’m not exactly a wide-eyed ingénue.”

Alec gives an instinctive headshake, and the words seem to burst out of him. “I don’twant you to understand it. I don’t want you anywhere _near_ it. You _don’t want to know_ that stuff, Logan. You don’t want to hear about the time I was a fucking party favor for some Russian drug lords, or the time I screwed a woman in the middle of a nightclub crowd so she wouldn’t stumble into our op-” He’s panting with effort by the time he gets enough to control to shut it down.

Logan doesn’t blink, because his point’s kind of been made for him. “And if it’s that you just don’t want to face that stuff, well, I gotta say that’s a shitty plan, babe. Because it’s already festering inside you, like an infection.”

There’s silence, and then Logan risks reaching out to grip his hand, says softly, “I won’t hate you. Do you understand? I won’t judge you. Never.”

No answer. He’s utterly still, apart from the trembling.

“Even if we weren’t together, Alec-” he has to stop and swallow, closing his eyes. “Even if you were an escaped X5 who’d just appeared on my doorstep-”

“Yeah, I know,” Alec says, face still turned away. “The famous Logan Cale compassion would see me through, no matter what my sad story was. So many others have been healed…” and then he trails off, biting his lip.

That fucking burns. Logan sits for a second, head down. Knowing it was calculated precisely to push him away… but still not quite able to move on. He leans heavily against the side of the bed and keeps his eyes on the timber floor.

Then Alec shifts, looking at him. “Sorry,” he says. And he looks so bone tired. “That was shitty of me. A shitty thing to say.”

Logan sighs. Then he nudges at the other man until he slides over, making room on the bed. “It’s okay,” he murmurs, settling down at Alec’s side. One arm across his chest, one leg curled over Alec’s knee. “Maybe we should let it go for a while. I just-” he hesitates, then says, “I want you to understand that I only care about it because it hurts you.”

There’s a long silence, and then Alec’s hand comes across to cup his forearm. “Yeah,” he says, and his voice is tight and low, “Except.”

“Except what?”

“Except for the part where that’s not true.”

Logan lifts his head, staring down at his face, wan with lack of sleep. “What do you-”

“ _I am not one of them_ ,” he whispers, eyes closing in pain. “ _I am not like all the others._ ”

And Logan’s frozen, heart in his throat at hearing his own words quoted back at him. _Shit_. And _fuck_.

Alec is pressing on. “The way you looked at me…”

 _Fuck_. He closes his eyes. How could he have been so _stupid_? How could he have possibly thought Alec would let himself forget?

“But that’s not what I meant,” he manages to say, stupidly. Except of course, that he _did_ mean it, and it _was_ a problem.

Alec is mute. Miserable. And Logan can’t stand that look on his face for one single second more.

“Look at me. Babe. _Please_ , look at me.”

It seems to take seven years before those eyes open and meet his, and Logan sucks in a harsh breath. Alec - he’s just waiting, trembling, poised at the edge of a cliff and waiting to be smashed into tiny pieces.

“Alec,” he says, heart shaking. “You are _everything_ to me. Do you understand?”

He can’t say it yet. Can hardly get any words out, let alone the biggest of all. But Alec is watching him, wide-eyed, pulse beat visibly racing in his throat and so he finds the courage to push on.

“I’m jealous. I am,” he says with a helpless shrug. Then swallows. That wasn’t really so hard to say.  “Can’t help it. But not – not like _that_ , do you understand? Not about… a number, or – or what you might have done with them that you haven’t done with me. I don’t care about that stuff, I _don’t.”_

Alec’s teeth catch on his bottom lip. “So… w-what, then?”

He shrugs helplessly, notices from a distance that now _he’s_ the one shaking. “It’s thinking I’m not the _last_. That I’m not – not any different from the ones that came before.”

The room is frozen in silence, and he watches Alec’s eyes widen, color rush back into his face. He surges upright, glaring at Logan.

“You moron. You absolute, total and _fucking entirely hopeless moron_.” And he’s gasping by the end, a reminder that he was seizing and unconscious only twelve hours ago, so Logan sits up and presses him back down to the bed, shushing and soothing like some half-assed nanny.

 “I’m an idiot. You’re right.”

“You-”

“Sh-sh-sh,” Logan breathes the sound against his mouth, “I’m sorry. Hush now. Don’t worry about it.”

“I’m not-”

“Alec.” He runs a thumb over his eyebrow, tracing the eye socket, the planes of his cheekbones, that beautiful mouth. “Calm down. Please.”

“I could _kill_ you,” he grinds out in pure frustration and Logan actually laughs.

“I know,” he says ruefully. “I see that.” He takes a few deep breaths and returns to smoothing Alec’s hair back from his forehead. “Calm down. I’m here, I’m not leaving.”

The X5 is still moving restlessly and Logan curses himself silently. He’s brought up something that won’t let Alec relax, and just because they had to have this conversation doesn’t mean now was the right time for it.

“You need to sleep,” he tries, and the eye-roll is instantaneous. “You do. You need to sleep. I’m a moron, I agree-”

Alec refuses to smile and he sighs. Okay. Started this now, can’t just bail. He edges a tiny bit closer and feels his heart clench at the way Alec’s muscles relax in response, just a fraction, something involuntary despite his anger and frustration. He speaks slowly, softly, and keeps going with the gentle strokes on Alec’s face, his neck as he tries to repair the damage, build some kind of bridge over this.

“This thing between us,” he says, “it’s great. More than I ever would have expected.”

It shouldn’t be amusing to watch an exhausted Alec battle the softness that spring up at those words, watch him try to hang on to his anger. He strokes a hand down the X5’s arm as he speaks, gentling him like you would a nervous horse.

“I don’t think either one of us saw this coming,” he adds. There’s a flicker on Alec’s face that says possibly Logan is wrong about _that_ , as well.  Hmm. If that moment in the alley wasn’t as impulsive as it first seemed... He takes a breath and puts that aside for later.

“And moments like this are gonna keep happening. Okay? It’s the way it is. We’ve both got our insecurities. Plus, you’ve never done this relationship stuff before, and I’ve always been colossally bad at it.” _Witness my broken marriage and the mess with Max that never even got started,_ he adds silently.

He cups Alec’s hand, massaging the bones of his wrist, his forearm, all the sweet spots he’d learned that first surprising night. He keeps going until those beautiful green eyes are drooping. “You’re entitled to get mad at me. But right now you need some rest. I’ll be here when you wake up.”  He adds, very softly, “You can yell at me again later. As many times as you want.”

“Promise?” he murmurs, soft and sleepy.

“I promise,” Logan smiles against his mouth. And the sleep that claims them both is deep and healing.


	13. Red Haze Afternoon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alec follows him, hands shoved into his jacket pockets so that no-one sees the shaking.  
> What. The. Fuck.

Logan boots up Terminal City’s latest gothic relic of a hard drive and waits, sighing as it creaks into action at the approximate pace of an arthritic snail. Words filter through from the area beyond the stairwell, where a new X5, Dita, is shooting the breeze with Max, Mole, Dalton and a few others.

He glances up. Alec is still casually chatting with Joshua on the platform above, pretending he doesn’t even know Logan is in TC today. Logan’s not pissed about it. At all.

“…so money’s a definite problem?”

There’s scattered laughter.

“What, you thought this’d be _Lifestyles of the Rich & Transgenic_?” Mole asks dryly.

“We get by,” Max says. There’s a slight current of tension in her voice, nowadays she’s always alert to any sign of discontent that might suddenly burst into a great big hairy deal.

“So – what? We lurch from scam to scam just like the ordinaries? Doesn’t anyone bring in any cash?”

Logan rolls his eyes. _That_ one is always going to be discontented with life. Can’t be like the scum-sucking _ordinaries_.

“Well Mole does stand-up comedy three nights a week, my busking career is really starting to take off, and between Dalton’s corporate law gig and our Manticore stock options, I’m pretty sure soon everything’s gonna be gravy.” Judging by the sarcasm dripping out of Max, she’s reading the newcomer pretty much the same as Logan.

Finally, finally there are signs of life from the old computer. He starts to type in commands, missing Eddie more than he can say.

“Yeah, but 494 is here, right? I saw him – Alec.”

There’s an edge to her voice he can’t quite- _ah_. Logan’s hands fall still on the keyboard and a tiny grin touches his mouth. _Turned you down, did he?_ The tension in his neck eases. Yeah, he’s feeling a little smug.

“Yeah, Alec’s here. So what?”  He can hear the shrug in Mole’s voice.

“So surely _he’s_ bringing in some cash.”

There’s a ripple of laughter and mutterings about ham hocks but Logan is already on his feet, gut clenching. Somehow he just knows what’s coming next.

“Why the hell would _Alec_ -”

“What?” She sounds nettled now, didn’t like the laughter. “Don’t tell me he’ll turn tricks for Manticore but he’s too proud to do it for his own-”

Her throat is soft beneath Logan’s fingers. Somewhere behind the red haze he can hear shouts and furniture crashing, his own name being called but nothing registers except the satisfaction of squeezing, his teeth are grinding and the first kick to his gut doesn’t quite connect, he tightens his fingers anyway and then stronger arms are dragging him back, his hands become claws because if he can’t stop the air he can at least draw blood-

He sucks in a breath and the scent of Alec fills his senses, and now he recognizes the arms holding him back, Alec on one side and Mole on the other, but he’s still straining, can’t quite contain the rage that has taken him over so completely. “Don’t _ever_ ,” the words grind out of his throat, and he surges forward against restraining arms, “ _Don’t you ever_ -”

“Logan.” It’s Alec, his voice quiet and shaken like he’s never heard it before, not even for Eddie, but Logan still can’t stop saying the words running through his head on an endless loop.

“Don’t you _ever_ -”

“Logan,” he says again, stronger this time, and Alec leans in, his hand pressing on Logan’s chest. “It’s okay. Stop now.”

He hasn’t looked away from Dita. She’s stunned – not just hurt but humiliated. An _ordinary_ took her down and she glares back at Logan with real hatred.

“ _Don’t you ever talk about him again_ ,” he makes sure she gets the message, very soft this time and the tension goes out of his body now that he’s said it. He steps back, and the adrenaline crashes through his system, leaving behind only sheer determination to stay upright in front of that _bit_ -

Max. He catches her eye as he spins away on shaky legs. She’s staring at him like he’s a stranger, and she, too, is being restrained, wrapped up in Joshua’s strong arms.

She tried to help, he realizes a second later. She must have tried to break up the – _fight_ , God, he actually _started a fight_ – and Joshua was the only thing that had saved him from being infected by her touch. Again.

Her gaze travels from Logan’s face to Alec’s, and back again. And he sees the realization. Her face hardens like a mask. Cold, proud beauty masking a world of hurt. At his side, Alec tenses.

 _Fuck_.

And then a small, unexpected voice drops into the silence.

“We don’t talk about what other people did at Manticore,” Dalton says, and he eyes Dita with cold dislike. “Everyone has stuff they want to forget.”

Dita’s sulky gaze transfers to the teenager, hovering at Alec’s side, protective. She gets to her feet with typical transgenic grace. “ _Listen_ , kid,” she snarls, and is cut off by Mole.

“He’s right,” Mole says, taking point because Max is clearly in no state to do anything about anything.

There’s a small murmur of agreement, even from the other X5s who are flanking Dita and she flushes with rage.  “So this _ordinary_ gets to-”

“We don’t out our fellow soldiers,” Mole says, and his tone is final. “Now – no broken bones, no blood spilled, so let’s just build a bridge and get over it.” His hard face turns from Dita, to Alec, then Logan and Max. “Okay?”

Logan just starts walking. He has to get away from this room. From the wreckage he’s left behind.

 

* * *

 

Alec follows him, hands shoved into his jacket pockets so that no-one sees the shaking.

What. The. Fuck.

 _Logan_. Pragmatic, logical Logan Cale in a killing rage. Because of _Alec_.

To _protect_ Alec.

What the hell did he even say now? What exactly was the appropriate response to a civilized man going apeshit on your behalf?

Logan shoves through an outer door with more strength than finesse, and they find themselves on an observation deck, looking out onto a bleak Seattle day, grey waves in the distance and the smell of diesel strong in the air.

Logan stops at the safety rail, grips the top and slides his hands out, slowly, until his torso rests against the railing too. He’s staring straight down, at the concrete twenty feet below. Shaky  breathing, restless hands, Alec notes all the various aftershocks of an adrenaline surge while he tries to figure out what the hell to do next.

“Are you okay?” Alec finally says.

Dumb question. Neither one of them is in the same zip code as _okay_.

But Logan nods, because he’s a nice guy. Unless you threaten his-

“I wanted to kill her.”

And of course, incurably honest. Not for Logan the lukewarm avoidance. “Yeah,” Alec says finally. “I, uh, got that.”

“Are _you_ all right?”

He blinks, and reaches out to grip the railing himself. “ _What_?”

“I mean, I’m sorry. I know I-”

“Are you _apologizing_ to me?”

“You wanted this kept a secret,” Logan says without looking at him. “I pretty much destroyed that in a few mindless seconds.”

Alec sucks in a breath, trying to line up all the clashing thoughts in his head. _Protecting me - don’t you ever - don’t care who - you’re my_ –

And then he just gives up. “Don’t apologize to me. Just don’t.”

That gets Logan looking his way. “But I-”

“You stood up for me, Logan.” And that is absolutely Alec’s word limit on that. Can’t squeeze anything else out.

Logan’s eyes go impossibly soft and so he hurries on before they can both get any more stupid. Because they’re ‘out’ now, with a vengeance, and he’s gonna have to deal with that. Soon.

“Look, I was leaving in the morning anyway. Why don’t you head on home while I gather up my stuff, and I’ll be there soon.”

Logan’s eyebrow goes up. “Riiight.”

Is it wrong to wish the guy was a little slower on the uptake? “Okay,” Alec sighs, “fine, you figured me out. But I have to see her.”

“Not alone.”

“Actually, yes, I do.” And before that stubborn look can turn into words, he adds quietly, “Logan, I need to do this. I know that you two will need to talk, but right now? This is between Max and me.”

Logan is shaking his head but there is just no time for more conversation. “I have to find her,” Alec says flatly, stepping back. “Go on home and I’ll be there soon.”

“Alec-”

“Go _home,_ Logan.” And then he flees. There’s really no other word for it.

Alec hastens back inside the main building, closes the steel door and glances around. He sees nothing, but his gut tells him… “D? You there?”

Dalton appears at the top of a metal staircase on the left. His eyes are wide and watchful, like always, but he doesn’t seem to have any issue with anything he’s seen today. Somehow, by sheer dumb luck, Alec has won this kid’s allegiance. Or possibly a kid as smart as this had already figured out most of what was going on.

“Logan’s heading home,” Alec says softly as the kid approaches. “You go with him, okay?”

Those blue eyes stare him down, and then he whispers, “You don’t trust her. Dita.”

“I just want to be sure he gets home okay.” But he feels a little sick in the stomach that Dalton had to specify which _her_ they were guarding against. He can’t do this to his fellow transgenics. Can’t poison the little community they’ve made. It’s one of the ten billion things he has to try and fix.

So he gives Dalton the ‘all business’ kind of nod and watches the kid all the way to the outer door before he jogs to the south end and starts climbing. He knows where Max will be, knows it with X5 instinct and the experience of comradeship. Maybe even friendship.

Dita is waiting halfway up the third flight of stairs, with a nasty smile he’s seen in a hundred different variations since he hit puberty and started his ‘training’.

“Well well _well_ ,” she drawls, eyes running up and down his body. “ _What_ a display.”

He halts, just waiting for her to be finished. Dita is a zero, and he’s not about to waste any energy on her when there’s real trouble waiting up on the roof.

“You must be worth every penny to get a reaction like that from an ordinary.”

“And doesn’t it just burn you up that you’ll never know,” he returns, and moves past her. He’s tempted, so tempted to threaten her away from Logan, but it’d just be tipping fuel on the fire. Dalton, Joshua, Gem, Mole… and Max. They’ll look out for their friend without any input from Alec.

He opens the door at the top of the stairs and pushes through onto the roof. The blast of cool air is always welcome, but they’ve constructed various types of cover in the past few months – no-one in Terminal City is prepared to step out into a big open space with clear sightlines to any hovering satellite, helicopter, hoverdrone or sniper. There’s no blue sky view – not for transgenics.

Max is waiting somewhere nearby. He can’t hear or see her, but the contained energy feeding her rage is palpable, and Alec knows an ass-kicking is an inevitable part of his immediate future. He closes his eyes for a half-second, letting memories of Logan wash through him before he locks them tight inside. He earned this trouble, and being with Logan was more than worth anything that might happen next.

She talks before she hits. First surprise. The new and improved Max - on her way to becoming a frickin’ diplomat.

“I shoulda known,” she calls from overhead.

Alec closes his eyes at that tone. Okay, _not_ diplomacy. This is gonna be worse than punches. She knows just where to strike to draw blood with words.

“You were playing way too nice,” she continues. “So supportive. The perfect lieutenant, always backing me up against Mole. I should have fucking known.”

She drops to the ground in front of him, and her eyes are blazing.

He stays silent. His body is readying itself for battle, those automatic responses way beyond his control but he can at least let her say her piece.

“How long?”

He has to swallow before he speaks. “Couple of months.”

She nods, unsurprised. She knew that already, knew it from Logan’s big confession back when this had first started. But she’s going back over everything in her head, staining every event with this new knowledge.

“You can’t blame Logan,” he says without thinking. Her face twists but he presses on. “Max. None of this is his fault. There was a moment,” he takes a quick breath and tries not to picture Logan’s face in that alley as Alec closed in for the kiss. “I saw an opportunity, and I took it. Don’t put this on him.”

“You think I don’t know that?” She hisses. Ah, great. Feline DNA coming to the forefront. This is going to be nasty as hell. “You think you need to tell _me_ about _Logan_?” She goes for a spinning high kick and he leans back enough to take the edge off, but still lets it connect with his jaw.

Stars.

Disoriented, he staggers back, one hand slamming into a wall to steady himself, and there’s the tiniest noise from behind. They both freeze, senses straining, then Alec sighs. “Joshua,” he calls, though it kinda hurts to speak. “It’s okay.”

The huge figure appears from behind a rusty water tank. “Not okay,” he says, gruff and worried.

“This is between us,” Max grits out, and she doesn’t take her eyes off Alec. “You need to go.”

“Josh,” Alec says softly, “we need to do this. Nothing terrible is gonna happen.”

Max huffs out a nasty laugh and Joshua’s face is painful to see.

“Li’l fella,” he begins and Alec cuts in before he, too, can reap the fruits of what Alec has sown.

“Josh. You need to go. Maybe you can keep an eye on Dita, hm?” The other man will feel better if he can do something constructive.

That gets him, and he gives one short nod, then backs away, glancing helplessly between the two X5s.

“I know why you did it, you know,” she whispers, watching Joshua until he’s down the stairs and the door closes with a snick behind him.

Alec freezes, and the first punch splits his lip.

“He’s just too tempting a target for a guy like you.”

There’s no air, and her fist ploughs into his eye. She can’t _know_.

“All that upstanding citizen stuff – I mean, a guy with a moral code who actually _lives by it_? And you just couldn’t stand that, could you?”

He sucks in a huge breath filled with relief, she doesn’t know, hasn’t seen the truth. He manages to block the blow aimed at his throat - he’s not here to die.

“You had to drag him down somehow. Had to knock a hole in him. Bring him down to _your level_.”

“I didn’t plan it,” he says numbly. Because that gets a little too close to his nightmares. Has he… _ruined_ Logan? He hesitates and a solid kick to the kidney drives him to the ground.

She’s on top of him in an instant, fists still flying and he just takes it for a minute or two. Only the knowledge that Logan is expecting him gets him defending. Logan will want to see his face. She lands half a dozen good shots first, but he gets a grip on her wrists and then they are grappling, equally matched.

It’s silent, and futile, and after another minute Max growls and stops, locked in place and glaring down at him in untapped fury. Their eyes meet, and _oh shit_ , the pain in her eyes freezes his lungs.

He can feel his face contorting, wonders for one ridiculous moment if he’s actually gonna split right open from all of this shit. “Ah, _Max_.”

“ _Why_?” she whispers it, a soft thread of air that holds all the pain she’s carried for over a year, since the first time her kiss almost killed the man she loves.  “Why did you do it, Alec? Why did it have to be _him_?”

Oh, _fuck_. Please God, bring back the body blows. Anything but this.

He closes his eyes. No, screw that, she deserves better. He meets her gaze again, ignores the tears blurring his vision and gives her whatever honesty he has left. “I tried, Max. I swear, I did. I tried to stay away from him.”

Her mouth presses into a straight line, disbelieving.

“I didn’t plan it _. I didn’t plan it_ ,” he says again, willing her to believe.  His hands shake around her wrists.

“So you just, what, accidentally climbed into his bed? Tripped and fucking _fell?_ ” Her knee slams into his side, compounding the kidney bruise.

He swallows the groan. “When it happened I just,” he swallows, feels a tear brim over the edge and slide into his hair, “I tried to control it. Make it so you’d never have to know. It would be just – just a thing. Comfort for us both, I guess. He’s just – he’s alone so much, Max-”

Her face twists again and she scrambles off him, breathing hard as she slams him with one last kick that flips him onto his side. “Don’t _tell me that_. You think I don’t know that? Don’t know how much it’s cost him to join up with us?”

He pushes himself halfway up but stays on the ground, watching as she staggers away, hiding her face. He’s gasping from the pain.

“If we’d never met-” she says in a thin voice.

“He’d have still been shot,” he says instantly. Because Alec has had all these thoughts too. “Still ended up in that chair.”

“He never would have been targeted by Zac-”

“He was taking risks as Eyes Only long before he met you.”

“He never would have destroyed his family’s company-“

Alec is shocked to hear himself huff out a broken laugh. “Max, he totally would have. You _know_ he would never have stopped.” The dumbass. The righteous, honest, used-to-be-privileged, _idiot_.

It takes him a second to notice she has gone very still. Watching. And he freezes under that gaze, wondering just how much she can see.

“You care about him,” she says suddenly, wonder dawning in that cracked voice, and for the first time her anger is banked. “You’re not just screwing around.”

Alec blinks, the words like ice down his spine. Then he laughs, careless and mean. “Max. Don’t get carried away. Didn’t you hear what Dita was saying about me down there? Don’t romanticize what’s essentially a transaction.”

There’s a long silence, and he wants to throw up at hearing his own words echo back at him. God, he’s tired. So frickin’ _tired_ of this.

And then, incredibly, so soft no-one else could hear, she murmurs, “I get it, you know. Two years ago I thought pretending would be enough to keep me safe from him, too.”

“No.” He’s shaking his head, trying not to hear the desperation in his tone. “It’s not like that.” He pushes up onto his knees and bites back a moan, lets himself sag against the wall.

Now she turns away, staring narrow-eyed at the horizon. “He cares. About you.”

“It’s not like that,” he says again.

“ _We’re not even like that_ ,” she says softly, mocking him the same way he’d done to her last year and Alec winces.

“No.” And it comes out louder, but even more unsteady.

For long moments Max just stares at him while he tries to breathe, half-sliding down the wall as his legs protest the long surge of pain and adrenaline. Then she says, so softly he can barely detect the words, “You’re as scared of him as I was.”

He’s speechless.

She turns, just slightly, in his direction, and the change in body language has his thoughts scrambling. “How did you ever get the guts to touch him at all?” she whispers. “I never could. Not until I’d lost everything already.”

Alec gapes at her. Now, for the first time ever, he understands what it is to feel _naked_. He shrugs, evading, fighting it to the last. But she just stands there, watching with that ages-old look on her face, the one that they’ve all come to trust, the one that shows she’s earned wisdom far beyond her years. It’s that trust that pulls the answer from him, against his will.

“I was fighting it.” The words choke out against his will. “All that time. I used to bait him so bad…” he swallowed at the sudden understanding on her face. “Always keeping my distance. _Every_ _day_. And then there was a second,” he closed his eyes, went back there in his head. Blue eyes glinting in the street lights, wide and stunned and aware.

“And I knew that was my chance, my _only_ chance. And I just – I couldn’t _not_ take the risk. I _had_ to. Just once. I never thought that anything would come of it.”

There’s a long silence, and finally she sighs, all the anger transmuted into broken and beaten. “How the hell did it come to this?”

The defeat in her voice has him scrambling. She can’t _quit_. Logan has to have _someone_ , once Alec is gone.

“It hasn’t come to anything,” he says, harsh and panicked. “There is _no situation_ , here.”

“You gonna make him choose?”

“There’s no choice to be made,” Alec yells, split lip reopening, because she has to be on his side for this to work. _She has to_. He pushes himself upright using the wall and staggers forward. Jesus, doesn’t she _get it?_

“He _loves you_. _You love him_. None of that has changed. If you can just forget-”

“Do you think Logan can forget?”

He closes his eyes and pushes on. “Of course. Once I’m gone-”

“So you’re gonna run?”

“I was always leaving, Max,” he says, tired. “You know that. I just overstayed my welcome.”

“It really didn’t look like it down there.”

“He’s a romantic,” Alec snaps, rage and truth tumbling out of him. “For fuck’s sake, the man’s a crusader for truth and justice. In this day and age. Of course he’s trying to make something healthy out of it. He’s a nice guy, he wants to think sex is tied up in feelings, and so he’s trying to make it fit. That reaction down there?” His voice is shaking at what he’s about to do but he has to – he _has to_.

“That’s not what it looked like. It’s not – that’s a guy who doesn’t want to admit he’s been marking time with a _whore_.” The last word comes out on a shaky whisper.

She stays where she is, staring out across the Seattle skyline, hair whipping in the wind, and he can almost feel it, the deep ache of her love for Logan and the impossibility of the barriers between them. His resolve hardens. He _will_ do this. _He will_.

“Max, you’ll have him back,” he whispers, choking on guilt and fear and bewilderment. “You will.”

She doesn’t move.

“Do you remember,” she finally says, her voice soft and distant, “how hard I had to fight him, how hard it was to make him let go?”

Alec closes his eyes, lets his head hang. “ _Because he loved you_. That’s why.” He shakes his head, then raises his hands to cup the back of his neck, just trying to hang on. He tightens his grip like he can hold together all the different parts of Alec that are threatening to fly apart. Nothing about this is going the way he’d thought it would. “It’s different with me.”

“Is it,” she murmurs, and he can just detect the whisper-quiet movement of her boots on the gravel, the opening of the door. “I wish I could be so sure.”

And then he’s alone on the roof, squinting up at the canopy that hides the sky from view.

Nothing going the way he’d imagined. Not since the day he’d first met Logan.


	14. Fuhgeddaboudme

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Let me guess,” Logan starts. “You took all the blame. I’m a total innocent in this. Like a little fawn, wide-eyed, totally taken advantage of.”

Logan is pacing in front of the webcam, waiting for the connection. It’s been too long. Even Dalton, waiting by the window, is starting to get that line between his brows he usually only gets when he thinks they’ve paid too much for something.

The screen flares into a picture, not the face he wants to see but not the one he was dreading, either.

Then he swallows. Ah, God. Dreading _Max_?

“Joshua.”

“Logan ok?” The familiar face is tired with worry.

“I’m all right, Josh. Where’s Alec.”

“Alec… had to go,” the other man says, his eyes sliding to the side in a way that says Lies, Lies, It’s All Lies and Logan just sighs.

“Bullshit,” he says without heat. He doesn’t blame Joshua. But _Alec_ – he manages to count as far as six before he says, “Get in front of the fucking camera _right now_ , Alec-”

Joshua swallows and Dalton suddenly appears at Logan’s side, his shoulder tight against Logan’s arm.

“Alec had to go,” Joshua repeats even less convincingly, which really shouldn’t have been possible.

“If Alec isn’t in front of that camera in the next ten seconds, so help me-”

There’s a sigh from the other end and then a silhouette appears in the badly lit background. “I didn’t really think you’d buy it,” is all he says, tired.

“Show me.”

“Logan.”

“ _Show me_ , damn it.” He doesn’t want to feel like this. Doesn’t want to be so angry with Max. It’s almost a relief to have another target. And he wouldn’t put it past the guy to be doing it on purpose, for that exact reason.

He’s waiting for an answer and what he gets is, “I got a call from a source. I need to get moving now-”

His vision goes red. “If you attempt to leave Seattle without seeing me so help me _God_ Alec McDowell I will unleash an Eyes Only hack that will burn you t-”

“Okay.” He surrenders on a sigh. “Okay. I’ll be there in half an hour.”

The webcam goes to black.

He’s still breathing heavily, staring at the screen when Dalton moves. One small hand – not so small anymore, Jesus, the boy is growing up – comes to rest on his shoulder. “He’ll be okay,” the voice says.

God. Now adolescents are trying to help him make sense of his crappy life. And also, he just told Dalton he was Eyes Only. Not that the kid seems surprised.

“I know,” he says heavily. Dalton means physically. The other stuff is just – too much.

“I’m gonna go.”  The _I don’t want to be here when you two start pulling each other’s hair_ goes unsaid, thankfully.

“Yeah.” He wants to say thanks, and about thirty other things, but he just doesn’t have any more left. Considering what’s about to go down when Alec gets here. He leans against Dalton instead, feels the hand come up to his shoulder, tighten for a second and then it’s gone.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Dalton says from the door. Logan nods and watches him go. They’ve both been lucky to be adopted by this kid. He’s something special.

Finally Logan pushes away from the desk and into the kitchen. It’s always been the place he turns for comfort, when he’s home at least. He can’t image Alec will want to eat, but he prepares some pasta anyway, it keeps his hands busy and the rhythm of chopping and stirring and setting water to boil is soothing. The sky begins to darken – finally, this fucking day will be _over_ \- and he flips on the light. When he hears the door open he takes one deep breath before he turns.

“Alec. _Jesus_.” He’s starting across the room before the words are out of his mouth.

He’d expected bad. But not _this_ bad.

One eye is swollen almost shut. His bottom lip is split and puffy. There’s deep bruising over most of his face, including an absolute doozy on one side of his jaw that’s already purple. He’s only an arm’s length away when Alec cries sharply, “ _Don’t_ \- Logan, _no_.” He blurs into action.

And then Logan realizes all over again that this was done by _Max_. Her DNA on Alec’s wounds.

“I need to shower,” Alec says from the hallway. Calm again. As though there was nothing in particular going on. “Maybe you could get some ice for the eye?”

And then he vanishes.

Logan stands there for long enough to hear the water start, his hands opening and closing uselessly. Then he stumbles back to the kitchen.

By the time Alec emerges, fully dressed again – _what other injuries is he hiding?_ – Logan has two icepacks at the ready. He keeps it together as he rounds the kitchen counter, silently nudges the other man until he complies and hoists himself up onto the kitchen bench. The X5’s movements are easy and relaxed – _oh yeah, he’s hiding an injury all right_. Alec eyes him warily as the first makeshift pack is pressed into place over the black eye.

They watch each other and finally Alec sighs. “Say something, would you?”

“What would you like me to say?”

He’s proud to hear his voice emerge, low and even. What he feels like, though, is that he wants to hit something. Some _one_. With a fucking _anvil_.

“You can’t blame her.”

Logan raises his eyebrows and tries to stop grinding his teeth.

“She has a right to be mad. To be hurt.”

He doesn’t argue. Alec’s right. Still… “Is that why you just took it?”

“What?”

He reaches down and takes one of Alec’s hands. Turns it over in his, runs a finger over the knuckles. Whole. Undamaged. No punches thrown.

Alec sighs. There’s something defeated in the sound. “What was I supposed to do, Logan?”

He shakes his head. Raises the other icepack to what is clearly an aching jaw. “Let me guess,” he starts. “You took all the blame. I’m a total innocent in this. Like a little fawn, wide-eyed, totally taken advantage of.”

Alec starts to speak and he presses the ice a little harder in warning. “You do comprehend, Alec, that at some point she and I will speak to each other again? That your version isn’t the only one that will be heard?”

“Only if you insist on being a jackass,” Alec mutters against the towel. “And I didn’t lie. I told her I made the first move, I told her I didn’t plan any of this-”

“You told her that I still love her and that one day this will all be behind us, will seem like a bad dream when she and I are finally together again.” The words come out sounding as flat and furious as he feels, but he at least gets the satisfaction of seeing Alec’s eyes widen in shock. “Right?”

 _Yeah, I wasn’t supposed to figure any of that out, was I, smartass?_

“I still didn’t lie,” he finally says, and Logan has never been closer to hitting the other man.

“Fuck you,” he spits, and steps away. “Just _fuck you_ , Alec. You think that little of yourself? Of _me_?”

When Logan turns back to glare at the other man Alec is swaying a little, clearly exhausted and in pain, but he can’t rein his temper in long enough to be fair.

“So that’s what we’ve been doing all this time? You were just a placeholder for Max? Any transgenic will do, is that it?” Alec winces at that and Logan drags in a breath, trying to get a hold of himself. He’s kicking a man when he’s down, and even knowing it’s a shitty thing to do he’s half enjoying being able to strike out at _someone_.

Both of them, fighting over him like he’s some kind of prize.

“I can’t even-” he just stalls, all his words drying up from sheer rage and frustration and guilt and _fuck_.

“It’s okay,” Alec says dully, and Logan huffs out a laugh. He stands there in the borrowed kitchen that has somehow become his, for the longest time, and then he turns, looking at Alec again. Really looking. He’s holding himself upright, a little _too_ upright, considering he’s also pressing ice to his eye and chin, and Logan feels something shift in his chest as if he’s seeing for the first time just how banged up the younger man is.

He takes the two steps that put him back at Alec’s side. And sighs. “You’re a mess,” he says softly. Without warning, he sets his hands on either side of Alec’s ribcage, hears the hiss of indrawn breath as he flinches away from the left. Logan rips his shirt up and chokes. “Oh, shit. Oh, _babe_.”

One side of Alec’s torso is a mass of bruising, including one fairly clear bootmark. He yanks his shirt out of Logan’s hand and covers himself again, letting one of the icepacks drop to the counter. “It’s not as bad as it looks.”

“Jesus _Christ_ ,” he breathes, “it better not be, or we’re taking a trip to the nearest hospital.”

Alec shakes his head, sharp and sure. “No. Nothing like that. Trust me, I know what I’m talking about. It looks nasty, but it’s just bruising.”

“How could she…”

“She’s hurt, Logan. Blindsided.”

“Which gives her a free pass to-”

“Which she is allowed to express.”

“Oh for Chrissake.” He snaps out, reaching for his phone. He’s not about to take the big dumbass’s word for it that those bruises are okay.

“Sam? It’s me.” He tries not to use his name on the phone anymore, luckily he and his doctor have a closer relationship than most. Especially since he started doing regular transfusions of transgenic blood for Logan. “I have a medical question.”

Alec is sighing and rolling his eyes in the background.

“If an _idiot_ gets into a fight with another _idiot_ and manages to sustain pretty severe bruising to his kidney area, how much trouble are we talking?”

 _“Uh, are the idiots in question-”_ Sam hesitates.

“Yes, my strong idiot friend.”

 _“Okay, well, if there’s no bleeding I’d generally think your strong idiot would be okay with bed rest.”_

“Even if the other idiot was also _very_ strong?”

Sam hesitates. “ _Well. Is there blood in the urine?”_

Alec shakes his head, giving Logan an _I told you so_ kind of look. “The idiot says no,” Logan said.

“ _You don’t sound like you believe him_.”

“He’s being an idiot on a whole other scale than we’re normally used to. _Epic_ idiocy.”

Sam chokes back a laugh. “ _Okay. Well, um, I can make a house call if you’d like_.”

Alec shakes his head again, hard, and Logan grimaces. He has to choose his battles here. “I think it’s okay, Sam. I’ll keep an eye on him.”

“ _Keep an eye out for shock. And call me if you’re worried_.”

“Will do.” He snaps the phone shut and eyes Alec.

“ _If_ you’re worried?” The idiot actually smirks. “Has he _met_ you?”

“Don’t think you’re gonna joke your way out of this,” Logan snaps.

And Alec is abruptly serious. “I’m not. Believe me, I get what a mess this is.”

He shakes his head slowly and puts his phone down on the counter. “You’re taking all of this on yourself, and it’s not right.” Alec’s eyes go cool and remote at that, and Logan sighs, nudges forward until he’s centered between his legs. He’s not gonna manage to break through Alec’s long-held _I’m a bad person_ belief in one go. That’s an undertaking to be measured in years. Possibly decades.

“We’re both responsible for this,” he says instead. “I invited you here, Alec.”

And then he just has to lean in and drop a tiny, butterfly kiss on that split lip, the blood only just beginning to clot. “I wanted you just as much as you wanted me. And I’m the one that blew our cover.”

Alec’s eyes have closed.

“There’s enough blame to share, here,” he whispers. “Okay?”

He doesn’t speak, but that rigid body slowly gives until his forehead is resting on Logan’s shoulder. It’s probably the only part of the X5’s body that isn’t hurting.

Slowly, gently, Logan raises a hand to cup the back of Alec’s neck. They stay as they are, silent, just breathing, for a very long time.

 

* * *

 

Logan is working out in the back room of the house when he hears Gem’s voice and the simultaneous knock. The noise seems extra loud for no good reason. Well, okay, one good reason. The house is empty apart from Logan. Alec’s been gone for two hours already, limping stiffly out the door despite Logan’s well-reasoned arguments. And his incandescent rage.

Seeing Alec’s injuries in early morning light - the bruises deepening as they’d slept – had taken him straight back to the red haze of yesterday, Dita’s throat beneath his hands. Only this time he was furious with Alec. The _idiot_. Sauntering off to meet Dalton and go on his secret crusade as though he wasn’t hurt.

“In the back,” he calls, trying not to think about his sudden onset of anger issues, and waits. She appears in the doorway a few seconds later, Skye asleep on one shoulder.

“Hey.”

“Hey.” He takes a deep breath, feeling better just looking at her. Amazing how good it’s been to have a _friend_ , someone he could talk to with no complications. He steps over to her side and runs a finger over the light covering of sandy hair on the tiny skull. “You want to put her down?”

Gem nods and steps back. “You finish up.” And right, yeah. She can probably see he’s fatigued.

She heads to the spare room where Logan has set up a small crib for these visits. He turns back and restarts his set of bicep curls, counting under his breath. He’s been working out since Alec left, trying to bury the thin line of fear uncurling in his gut. There had been something in his goodbye, something… shaky.

He kind of hates himself for hoping it was just the agony of the kidney bruises and the aching jaw and the split lip…

She reappears in the doorway a few minutes later, as he’s racking the weights. “So I hear you met Dita.”

“You heard right.” He’s pretty proud that his tone is even and matter-of-fact. He can only imagine how that little scene was being recounted around Terminal City, especially considering that stories like that don’t usually get smaller, calmer, more reasonable in the retelling.

Gem just nods. Whatever she’s heard, it hasn’t changed anything, and he takes another, easier breath, glancing over his shoulder. “You know her? From before?”

“Yeah. We were in some of the same training programs back at Manticore.”

Logan nods.

“She was a special subdesignation, though.”

“Yeah? “

“Yep. Grade A _Bitch_.” And she says it with such straightfaced relish Logan almost doesn’t get it.

When he does and the laugh rolls out of him uncontrollably, he’s actually startled to hear it. It’s been a long time since he relaxed and let go like that.

He turns away from the rack, running a towel over his face as he moves past Gem and into the kitchen, nudges her arm with his, a silent _thanks for coming over_.

“You okay?” Gem asks carefully, and he grimaces before he turns around.

“Yeah. I’m okay.” For a minute he thinks about leaving it there and ignoring the rest of it, but then he sighs. Avoidance isn’t his thing. “So… I guess I’m the top story in Terminal City today?”

Gem makes a face and yeah, he already knew that. “If it helps any,” she says, “you’re getting a truckload of badass points for putting an X5 on her kiester.”

He laughs at that. Then slants a glance her way. He kind of already has the answer, since she’s here and everything, but he says it anyway. “So… um. You’re not mad, or weirded out or anything?”

She raises delicate brows. “Weirded out?”

He shrugs. “Some people might be mad that we were keeping a secret from our closest friends.”

“It wasn’t a secret from me,” she says. “Or Dalton, for that matter. And I think Joshua already knew, too.”

Logan nods. Lets out a breath. “I always wondered,” he said. “But then I thought, if you knew, you’d say something.”

She shrugs. “I only got to Seattle after most of the shit went down,” she said, “but even _I_ know it’s a complicated situation. I figured if you wanted us to know, you’d say something. Otherwise it was none of my business.” There’s a pause, then she adds, “I was just glad you were happy.”

He can feel the faint smile touch his face. “Thanks.” The Manticore alumni, gold medalists in the Compartmentalization Olympics.

She shrugs.

He takes a long drink of water and leans back against the counter. She slides up onto one of the stools, eyeing him carefully. The silence is comfortable, but Logan waits instead of heading straight to the shower. She’s thinking something over, has something to say. He recognizes the signs.

She glances up, finds him watching her and hesitates.

“It’s okay,” he says. “It doesn’t have to come out perfect.”

She smiles wryly. “Okay,” she says back. “Well. It’s just. I think maybe – there’s something you’re missing. Or… not understanding completely.”

“I can well believe it,” he replies wryly. Some days he feels like the only alien on the planet.

“The virus,” she says, and he tenses. Hadn’t expected _that_ to be the topic. In fact, that’s not a topic he’s discussed with anyone in months. There’s just no time. He knows Alec thinks about it, has seen him looking over Max’s notes, Joshua’s old painting, but they’ve avoided that topic along with all other Max-related issues.

“The virus?”

“I don’t think you understand how Alec feels about it.”

He raises a brow and says, trying not to show his discomfort, “I’m aware it bothers him a great deal.”

She nods, as if he’s confirmed her suspicions. “Yeah, that’s exactly what I mean. You don’t have a clue.”

“Excuse me?”

“Logan,” she says slowly, “We’re good friends.”

“Very good friends,” he says quietly. It’s not often you get a chance to say something emotional to an X-series.

“And as your very good friend, I am so far beyond being _bothered a great deal_ by the virus it’s not even funny.” Her voice is suddenly flat and tense, and all that lethal training is right there in her eyes. She looks like she would vaporize the virus with sheer force of will if it appeared in front of her. For the first time ever, he can picture Gem actually killing someone.

Logan blinks.

“Now - can you extrapolate out how much more it bothers Alec? Considering how much more important you are to him?”

He just stares at her.

She bites her lip, submerging the lethality as he watches. She swallows twice, it’s not easy to rein in that kind of power, and her voice is shaken as she says, “We’re soldiers by training, not inclination, Logan.”

“I know that.” Now he’s trying not to sound annoyed.

“But sometimes you don’t quite get it. You can’t really, you weren’t there, but… whatever else we might have been if things were different - it’s intrinsic to us. Has to be, they started us so young.”

“It determines your thought processes. A lot of your reactions. I know that much.”

She nods. “So if you think of the virus tactically-”

“I’m an easy target.” His voice is flat. They can’t _possibly_ think he isn’t aware of just how easily he could die. He’s given it a fucking _lot_ of consideration, thank you very much, seeing as how he’s _not a suicidal idiot_.

She shakes her head. “I don’t just mean _that_. I mean that you’re part of our unit, and-” she swears, frustrated. Thinks it over and he waits, appreciating the effort she’s making, even if he’s more confused than he was ten minutes ago. Which really shouldn’t have been possible.

“Look. Even transgenics at TC who’ve only met you once or twice, know you only as someone who’s helped us, even _those_ guys would have devoted some time to thinking about how to combat the virus, or at least reduce the risks. It’s _automatic._ Almost our first thought every day is to try and reduce the tactical risks to our unit, our position.”

“Okay,” he says. Hadn’t ever thought of it like that. “So Alec-”

“Alec thinks about your safety every second of every day.”

“So you’re saying it’s not emotional,” he says slowly. “His obsession with curing the virus.”

“I’m saying the emotional is tied up with the tactical, and it leaves him no choice whatsoever. There is _no_ _way_ a Manticore solider can live with knowing that drinking the wrong beer could kill someone in his unit, and when you add his emotions to the mix-”

“He _has_ to fix it.” He’s blinking down at the floor.

“Yeah,” she says, soft again. “Yeah, he does. And there isn’t one of us that wouldn’t go all the way to help him with that.”

As declarations go, it’s a whopper. Logan takes a deep breath. “Okay,” he says. “Okay.” He looks up, manages a smile. “Thanks.”


	15. I and I am a Hamster

 

There’s a knock on the back door and Logan pauses. Hardly anyone _knocks_ on his door anymore. Transgenics generally break in somehow, appearing like Aladdin’s genie, especially Al-

He stops, closing his eyes. He knows it’s not Alec. Alec’s only three days into his latest mysterious jaunt. But a neighborhood visitor (not that he’s ever had one) would be at the front door, wouldn’t they?

So he already knows who it is when he goes to open the door.

She’s dressed in her usual black, one of her cuter caps tilted sideways on her head, but her body language is of the shut-down-defensive variety, eyes firmly fixed somewhere around Logan’s knees.

He takes a deep breath and just looks at Max, his hand still gripping the edge of the door.

“Hey,” she finally says, and oh God, that carefully-crafted careless tone is a trip down memory frickin lane he really didn’t need right now. She could be standing in his penthouse right now, arguing all the reasons why it was perfectly okay to steal an evening dress or hang a former hitman out to dry.

Still, he knows his line. “Hey.”

He doesn’t sound as calm as usual, though. Just can’t find his old levels anymore.

There’s a boatload more silence, and she glances around the yard as if she’s expecting an ambush, though her body stays turned toward Logan.

“Did you want to come in?” he finally asks.

“Sure,” she says, but he hears the deep breath she takes as she steps past him and over the threshold. She slides her hands into her back pockets as she passes him, and he closes his eyes when he sees the gloves.

Always back to the virus.

She moves through the house with familiarity, though she hasn’t really visited much since the great TC showdown. Back when it was Joshua’s she was a regular but now… well, a lot has changed.

A _lot_ has changed.

He should really be saying something by now but he’s just so heavy, so worn out. And still very, very _angry_. So he follows her into the living room and just waits, one shoulder propped against the doorway.

“How are you doing?” she asks, and he takes a minute to try and guess what she means. If she’s asking about him, or about Alec, or about how he feels toward her now… Jeez. The world’s greatest minds would struggle to figure this out.

“I’m okay,” he says slowly. “You?” And as he watches her he realizes she’s listening intently, trying to hide it but… he’s had some experience observing X5s.

She’s very still. Eyes still focused on that angle that glances past Logan’s shoulder, never meeting his eyes. “Not great, actually.”

His eyebrows flick up on automatic. Okay. So they aren’t going for the polite fictions here.

“Any particular reason?” Yeah. He’s feeling a little mean. She’s listening for Alec, he’s just realized. Like she hadn’t done a bang-up job of driving him away with fists and feet.

 _Her bootmark on Alec’s flank._

She worries at her lip. “Why didn’t you just tell me?” she says, carefully flat. Gives one of her little shrugs. “I don’t understand why you didn’t just tell me it was Alec all along.”

“He asked me not to.”

She rolls her eyes. “Right. Cos _his_ people skills are-”

“I didn’t like it,” he said, voice hard. “But as he pointed out, it was his decision to make. It could have messed things up in TC and you couldn’t afford that kind of split in the ranks.”

“He ever maybe think that it might be simpler not to sleep with my guy in the first place, I wonder? If he _really_ wanted to avoid-”

“When exactly was I _your guy_ , Max?” And now he’s cold, straightening away from the doorframe. “When you told me you were with Alec? Or when you cut me off without a word-”

She flinches, but the flick of hurt has her striking back, too. “All I’m saying is that if he was so worried about loyalty, all he had to do was go elsewhere and all this mess-”

“All this mess,” Logan grinds out. “You mean this kind of mess?” He reaches up on top of the bookcase and tosses some Polaroids in her direction. They land in a spread on the table and she stares down at them silently. Shots of Alec's torso. His swollen jaw. The shape of her boot on his skin. Long seconds stretch out into a minute and she doesn’t move.

Finally Logan shifts, taking in the look on her face and _ah_ , _hell_. It’s the same way she’d looked when she saw those old pictures Lydecker had left for Eyes Only, that first year they’d met.

Self-disgust. It’s a nasty look for someone as amazing as Max, and Logan is suddenly just as disgusted with himself.

“Forget it,” he says, and gathers them up, but she doesn’t move. “Max.”

Still she doesn’t move, and he understands with sudden clarity that she is fighting back tears.

He closes his own eyes, sighing, and shakes his head. He’d give a lot to be able to hug her right now.

“Max,” he says, louder this time, “come on. Sit down.” He pulls out one of the high stools Dalton had delivered a few weeks ago, and trudges round the counter into the kitchen. He keeps himself good and busy with knives and boards and the fridge for a minute or two until he hears her move, hears the stool shift on the floor and then he finally says, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have shown you those.”

“Why not? I made the mess, I should be able to look at it, right?”

“If he knew I’d taken those pictures he’d have kicked my ass.”

“You’re probably right.”

He took another deep breath and glances sideways. “You eaten today?”

Almost, _almost_ it brings a smile to her face. “You’re still cooking, huh?”

He shrugs. “It’s harder without Dalton around supplying me with fresh produce. But yeah, I’m getting by.” But it hurts, suddenly, to realize how long it’s been since Max sat in his kitchen, watching him cook.

“That kid is amazing.”

“He has amazing teachers,” he says carefully, shooting her a sidelong glance.

“You must mean Alec,” she says dully, and oh God, he really has messed this up.

“I mean everyone at TC,” he says, “everyone.”

There’s a long silence. He doesn’t know how to fix any of this, and so he just keeps going with the food, like a hamster on a wheel, and finally Max says, “So… where is he?”

He pauses mid-slice, and has to steady himself before he can say, “No idea.”

He can see her body shift in his peripheral vision, “What? You mean he just _left_?”

Logan nods. “The next day.”

“Shit,” she whispers, and he glances over, enquiring. Their eyes meet, and he’s surprised to see shades of deep concern in those eyes. “I’m – Logan, I’m _sorry_.” She swallows, “I never meant-”

“I don’t think it was because of you,” he says, surprising himself. He’d actually spent quite a lot of time furiously blaming Max, composing long arguments in his head listing all the ways in which she’d behaved like an ass and driven Alec away.

She leans forward, head in her hands and when she finally speaks, it’s like something has broken. “I know you don’t belong to me,” she whispers to the kitchen bench. “I _know_ that. It’s never gonna happen, and I have to admit it. I just-”

He stares at her, white-knuckling the knife in his hand, helpless with the wish that he could hold her, _Jesus_ , whether to love her or just to comfort a friend, he can’t even tell anymore. It’s just so awful to watch Max suffer like this and be an observer. Be the reason. Be the punisher.

“I think I was hanging on to the idea, you know? Something for _me_ , just _Max_ , and not the great transgenic cause. It seems like that’s my whole life now…”

“Blah blah woof woof,” Logan murmurs, and she manages a shaky smile. Then she bites her lip.

“And then, on top of everything - I just felt so _stupid_. Like I’d been played. Like everyone else knew but me.”

“They didn’t,” Logan whispers, trying not to think about Joshua. “He was – we were careful.”

She nods, and he watches drops fall from her eyes to the counter.

“Max,” he says, helpless, “don’t. Please don’t.” And it takes time, but she reels it back in while he watches her - hands useless, heart aching.

There’s a long silence and then finally she says without looking up, “Are you just gonna stand there all day?”

He blinks.

“It’s over a year since I’ve tasted real alfredo sauce, you know. Mole keeps trying to give me stuff that comes out of a jar.”

“Say it isn’t so,” he mock-gasps, and she musters up a smile. But her eyes are watchful. Measuring.

They’re both trying. It’s the best they can do for now.

 

 

 

 

 

 

He starts the webcam, fingers shaking. _Idiot_. Oh God why has he been such a blind, stupid idiot about this?  Gem had practically _told_ him, fucking weeks ago. How had he not put it together until now? He rubs at his eyes, gritty from sleep, and runs his hands through his hair.

Tori answers. “I need Max,” he says, sharp and urgent and no manners at all. Somewhere in the afterlife, his mother is twitching.

Tori just blinks, then nods. Say one thing for Manticore, it’s taught them crisis management.

“Logan, you okay?” Max appears about two minutes later, dragging a t-shirt over her head and he doesn’t even blink at all the bare skin on display. He can still see the remnants of the dream in his head. Alec’s blood, flowing like a river, Lydecker, of all people, slicing him open, removing the organs and handing them out, to Max, to Zac, to Tinga, Eddie and Biggs until there was nothing left of Alec at all.

Why the hell that dream image should suddenly feel like all the answers when he finally woke up, he’ll never know.

“It's _us_ ,” he gets out, voice shaky as hell, and he needs to get his shit together _right now_.

“What?”

“Max, it's you and me. The virus. _That's_ what Alec is trying to put right. Where he’s gone – where he’s been going all these months.”

“How do you know?”

“Just trust me. I know.” He can hear Alec’s voice in his head, explaining. _People were hurt. Good people._

Silence. Then, “Can he do it?”

“Can he - _what_?”

“Maybe he can-” she stops, suddenly sensing that she and Logan are not on the same page.

“Max, _he’s_ _looking for ex-Manticore scientists_. He may have already found them.” Jesus, God, it’s his third trip. “It's _insanely_ risky-”

“So we go back him up,” she interrupts. “We don't have to kill the whole op. Just make sure it doesn't go sideways.”

And Logan is silent, stunned to realize he hadn't even considered that option, he'd only been thinking of getting Alec home safely. Hadn't thought about the virus. Hadn't wanted to, he admitted in a sudden burst of insight.

If the virus still exists, then... Then there's no choice for Logan to make. Simple. He swallows, the knowledge bursting in his brain that he’d been hiding from this all along. But before he can think about that he needs to know. Alec needs to be okay.

He tries to keep his voice even. “How do we find them?”

And Max smiles, thin and mean. “Well, there we’ve got an ace up our sleeve. We microchipped all the kids.”

“And Alec doesn’t know?”

“Did it last time he was away. Unless Dalton mentioned it to him specifically…”

So as it turns out, finding Alec is surprisingly easy, after all that. Portland it is.

Logan isn’t sure whether his heart is going to leap out of his chest or just cease working altogether, but either way he’s incredibly pissed to be relegated to waiting in the car, like the chick in a crappy horror flick, thank you very much. Max is casing the joint, Joshua in the shadows waiting as backup, and then two seconds after Logan thinks, _fuck this_ and shoves the car door open, his phone rings.

It’s Dalton.

 “Alec says you guys can come on up. We’re on the 9th floor.”

Logan lets out an explosive sigh. “Fine.”

Well, if he spotted Max and Joshua, at least Alec’s being relatively cautious. “Josh,” he calls, sliding the phone back into his pocket, “we’ve been made.” A huge silhouette appears at the end of the laneway. “Alec apparently saw us coming.”

“No surprise?”

“No surprise.” And they fall into step, heading deeper into the laneway, no way in hell, of course, that they’re about to use the front door, like total amateurs.

By the time they’re inside the building and headed for the 9th floor, Max has joined them, hanging up her phone without any kind of farewell to whoever was on the other end of the line. She’s tightlipped, tense, and Logan isn’t sure if it’s the idea of seeing Alec again, hurt professional pride at being made, or the idea of saying _adios_ to the virus. Possibly a combination of all three, she’s always been the efficient type.

They trudge up the fire escape in silence, Logan’s heart thundering again and he’s honest enough to admit it’s not only from physical effort. Four weeks. A month since he’s seen Alec. And now only a few short minutes separate them.

Oddly enough, when they push through the doors and into the room where he’s waiting, it’s not relief or excitement or anything similar that has him shouldering past Max and Joshua. It’s pure rage.

“You are an _absolute_ -”

“Hey,” Alec says, flatly normal, doesn't even blink when Logan flattens an arm over his chest and marches him backwards, into the next room, kicking the door closed behind them.

He draws a deep breath and opens with yelling. “What the _hell_ -”

“Don't even start.” And the complete lack of heat is throwing Logan for a total loop. “I had to do it.”

Logan blinks. He'd expected - an apology. Or defiance. Maybe sheepishness. Not this. His eyes run over the X5 on automatic, the absence of bruises, the healed lip, the ease with which he’s holding himself. Even at a time like this something inside him relaxes, knowing Alec is unharmed. Of course, that’s not to say he isn’t still _pissed_.

“And you had to do it like _this_? Without even telling me where you were going and what you were doing it for? You couldn’t tell me this mission of yours was actually _all about me_?”

He shrugs. “I don't know, maybe not. But I'm not apologizing.”

“Oh, no, of course not. Why the hell would you apologize for repeatedly leaving and not telling me _you were risking your life for me._ ”

“I didn't want an argument.”

“So we couldn’t even _discuss_ it?”

“Logan, you're not even supposed to _be_ with me.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means _I went down on you_ _in an alley_.”

Logan’s head snaps back at the reminder. It's a long time since he's thought of that night.

“That's how this got started, remember?” Alec is pale, face set. “On my knees in a back street like a two-dollar whore. Not like my wicked sense of humor attracted you or you were drawn in by my beautiful soul. You never would have thought about me in that way, except-”

When he breaks off Logan feels his arm drop away, suddenly frightened by the look on Alec’s face. And his voice sounds like death when he says, “Manticore taught me, and they taught me well. I shocked you. Excited you. Drew you in, whatever. It's what I do.”

“Don't,” Logan whispers. “Don't do this. Don't make us into something ugly.”

“If Max had let me die last year,” he says, like the idea is nothing, “if she'd let that implant explode in my neck, you two would have had a cure for the virus by now and you'd have been together all this time.”

“Neither one of us would have wanted a cure that way, you know that.”

A tiny smile touches his mouth, painful to see. “Just further proof that you two are birds of a feather. Too fucking noble to live.”

“And what's this, then?” Logan’s heart is pounding. Alec can probably hear it in this silent room.

He frowns, confused.

“You're sacrificing your own happiness right here,” he gestures toward the lab, the virus research. The startled guy he’d blown past as he’d marched Alec in here.

Alec blinks. Then shakes his head. “That's not-”

“That's _absolutely_ what you're doing. Isn't it?” He swallows, then asks, “You're happy with me, aren't you? Happy the way things are now?”

The silence goes on for, oh, forever.

Finally, Alec says, raw and unwilling, “You know I am. But that doesn't make me some kind of martyr.”

“Oh _really_.”

“No.” And he stares straight at Logan. “It's not even close.”

He takes one careful breath. “You think I'm gonna run straight into Max's waiting arms once the virus is gone. Don't you?”

He won't answer.

“So that's the risk you're taking-”

“It's not some big hearted gesture-”

“That's _exactly_ what it is.”

“Logan, don't try to make me into some kind of-”

“Why else would you-”

“Because I don't want to be the _fallback position_ ,” he suddenly shouts, pushing back with a shove of his own. “ _That's_ why. I can't handle being second best.”

“That's not-”

“You _don't know that_.”

Logan is silent, breathing rapidly. His words. Where are his words, right when he needs them? They’re stuck in his chest, lodged behind the weight that appeared when Alec said _you never would have thought about me that way_.

“You can't argue,” Alec says, and he sounds tired now, “You can’t even look me in the eye. You were comfortable with things this way. You could be with me, and have a great time in bed, and still secretly say to yourself _my life might have been different if it weren't for the virus - I might have been with Max_.”

“I’m _not_. I’ve never-”

“Not consciously. I know you well enough to know that,” he says wearily. “But I needed to - I need to know. And I need to give back what was taken.”

“And you do that by putting yourself in harm’s way with no backup other than Dalton? Chasing after some frickin’ Manticore scientist?”

Alec is shaking his head. “Not Manticore,” he says, and steps away, back toward the door. He pushes it open and Logan follows him back into the other room, to the guy he’d barreled past a few minutes ago.

“Logan,” he says, “Meet Robert Berrisford. Robert, I assume you remember Max from when she knocked you unconscious last year, and this is our big brother Joshua.”

Berrisford. Logan just blinks at the older man as all the stuff he knows runs through his head.

 _Rachel’s father_. CEO of Mersadyne Corporation and genetic researcher. Also the guy who would most like to kill Alec with something blunt and rusty. He sucks in a breath and shoots a furious glance at the younger man. “What the _hell_ kind of idiot plan-”

“Robert’s agreed to do some work on the virus,” Alec says quietly.

“ _Without_ trying to shoot you in the head this time?” Max snarks. Robert flinches and Logan is suddenly reminded that the guy was - _is_ a grieving father, not some stone-cold assassin.

“Why?”

“I’m… still trying to figure that out for myself,” Berrisford replies, and he’s glancing from Max to Logan. “Can I assume you two are the uh-”

“Yeah,” Max says, still eyeing him suspiciously. “We’re the _uh_.” And Joshua snuffles, a nervous laugh. Berrisford doesn’t look at the giant dog-man. He seems a little overwhelmed. But it’s Alec he’s eyeing with real curiosity. Whatever awkward conversations these two have been having, they haven’t included the X5’s relationships with Max or Logan.

After what is possibly the world’s most awkward silence, Berrisford says diffidently, “I would, um, like to take a look at your blood – both of you, and start some baseline analysis. Once I’ve done that I’ll have an idea of whether or not I can help.”

“Okay,” Max says, “fascinating as all of this is, I got a call while we were coming in here. We need to go back. _All_ of us,” she adds, with a meaningful glance at Alec. “Something’s come up at home.”

He’s tense immediately. They all are. “What’s happened?”

“I’ll tell you on the way back.”

Alec hesitates, eyeing Max as if he can guess what kind of mess they’re headed for, or maybe whether it’s a trick. Then says, “All right. But why don’t you two give Robert some samples before you leave? He can take a look and see where we’re at.”

So Logan and Max line up for the now-familiar needle, though Logan keeps a careful eye on Alec the whole time, in case he’s about to pull another Houdini act. He only relaxes when Dalton drifts past and gives him a meaningful look.

Right.

Dalton is on the case.

 


	16. Rushed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “All last year. When we were dodging White and rescuing transgenics. All you wanted was Max.” He looks up. “And all I wanted was you.”

When they’re gathered in the control room at TC that night, Logan has no hint of just how huge this is about to get. Like an idiot, he’s thinking in terms of politics and public perception. And watching Alec like a hawk. There’s a roiling in his gut that has nothing to do with the offer on the table.

“We’ve had an approach,” Max says. “From a foreign government.” She glances around at the assembled transgenics from her spot at the top of the staircase. Everyone from Terminal City is here tonight.

“An approach?” Someone calls from the floor below.

“A job offer. One transgenic, working presidential security detail. They’ve had some credible threats, decided they’d like an enhanced team member.”

There are low rumblings. “Okay,” Max says, raising her voice. “There’s a few things to think about here. First of all, whether or not it’s a trap.”

“Could be someone just wanting to get a sample of DNA, or snatch a cheap transgenic.” A voice drifts down from the top floor.

“Bingo,” she says, nodding. “We’ll have to check that out before we do anything else. If it’s a trap, well, we deal.”

“But if it’s not a trap,” Mole glances sideways at her, and Logan can feel Alec tense at his side. “What then?”

“That’s why I’ve called everyone here. Whatever we decide is gonna affect all of us. If it’s a legitimate offer, then any one of us is entitled to take it, I guess. But I’d like us to try and talk over all the angles first. If the majority are against it, then we say no deal, and go on as we are. If the majority like the sound of it-”

“If we say yes we’ll be flooded with offers,” Mole finishes for her and Alec relaxes. Logan too. Mole’s not making a power play. Just asserting his position as part of the command team.

“I’d say that’s likely. So-” Max raises her voice again. “Think it over. In two hours we’re meeting back here and we’re gonna vote. If we vote to turn down the offer, that’s it, I guess.”

“Until the next one,” Alec mutters and Logan glances sideways. He can tell Alec is nervous, like he is. They’re on the edge of something momentous, a huge change for the population of TC.

“If we’re accepting the offer then I think the smart thing would be for all of us to stick together as a group and negotiate in a block. If they can make individual offers they’ll be playing us against each other. So… think that over, too.”

She steps back from the railing, and Logan can tell exactly what she’s thinking.

“You’re expecting them to go for it?”

Alec has melted away, he realizes a beat later. He glances around, relaxes a little to see him talking with some of the Arctic Division. Even from across the room Logan can see it’s his normal lighthearted patter  - _unleash the Charm Offensive_ \- except this time he’s testing the waters, finding out what they’re thinking instead of trying to sell something. Logan shifts just as Alec glances over, but he can see the long, measuring look the X5 sends toward himself and Max, and he swallows.

Max shrugs. Then grimaces. “They’re trained fighters, Logan. Hiding away here doesn’t suit most of them. Most of _us_ ,” she amends. “The thought of being able to take a legitimate job…”

“Would be tempting,” he says, nodding. “Yeah.” When he glances over again, Alec is clattering down the stairs, headed for a nervous group of X6’s.

Terminal City is abuzz with conversation for the next two hours. When the vote is taken, predictably enough, the population is mostly in favor of taking a possible deal and hiring themselves out as soldiers of fortune. Half an hour after that, the command team is gathered ‘round a table, running scenarios and making plans.

The first few hours are taken up with ways of confirming whether or not the offer is legitimate. The French government leaks about as much as any other government, and the transgenics have worked in enough overseas ops to have contacts, so calls are going out in a constant stream, co-ordinated by Gem.

The next phase is discussing terms for any possible contract. Any deployed transgenic needs not only personal security, but the ability to keep their DNA secure as well. They’re gonna need their own medical contacts in France (to start), and a secure, secret location where the transgenic can reside, safe from the snake cult and other interested parties.

Once the phrase ‘we need a lawyer’ has been repeated for about the ninety-eighth time, Logan rolls his eyes and calls his brother-in-law, the diplomat. He’ll know a lawyer who can advise on international employment contracts and help them set up a company. Happily, Logan has laid the groundwork for some of this already, with his various trusts.

By midnight they’ve got a loose framework. Any offers for a transgenic’s services will come to TC. The contract will be reviewed and negotiated first. Then the transgenics will decide internally which of them takes the contract. The employer can specify some traits they require, but no specific individual can be requested. The employer’s fee will be paid to TC, and the soldier will then be paid, minus a cut which helps to keep TC running. Alec is calling it the Allied Transgenics Guild, and he’s only half joking.

“All right,” Max sighs, stretching her neck from side to side. “So far, so good. I guess next we set up a register of those who want to be deployed, and then we, I dunno. Draw names out of a hat? Vote?”

At Logan’s side, Dalton mutters, “And the winner of _Transgenic Idol_ is…” and more than a few lips twitch.

“This one’s different, though,” Mole says, tapping the paper outlining the offer. “ _This_ one we have to play carefully. We can check it out all we like but even if it’s legit there’s always the chance the field will change once somebody arrives to do the job. A known transgenic. Very tempting target. The way this one shakes out, it’s gonna decide whether or not there’s a next time.” He shakes his head slowly. “Dicey,” he finally says. “Very dicey.”

“I’ll take it,” Alec says, and all conversation stops.

Logan just freezes, eyes on the table.

Thankfully, he has the half a second while everyone gapes at Alec to compose himself. Because the next thing that happens is that every eye sweeps the room to focus on him. He doesn’t move. Doesn’t blink or speak.

How could he have been stupid enough not to see this coming?

It’s the perfect escape hatch. Necessary. Overseas. _Suicidal._

The silence stretches and stretches until Max says hesitantly, “Alec-”

“It has to be an X5,” he says, all business. “They want someone who’ll blend in with the regular security team, we’re the only ones who are the right age and appearance.”

“True,” Gem says, from the other side of the room. Her face is very pale and she is watching Logan as she speaks. “That doesn’t mean-”

“I’ve seen more active duty than almost any other X5 in Terminal City.”

“Also true.” It’s Mole this time, the only one who isn’t watching Logan. Typically, he’s re-reading the offer and ignoring all the emotional bullshit in the room. “You ever worked a bodyguard detail?”

“Years ago, in Mexico,” he replies. He still hasn’t looked at Logan.

“ _No_ ,” says Dalton, and Alec flinches for the first time at the distress in the boy’s voice. He swallows hard and straightens in his chair.

“You know you can trust me with this,” he says, looking only at Max. “I know what the dangers are, I know what to look for. I know how we want to handle this. You need one of the command team on this job, to set the tone.”

Logan simply can’t move. There’s nothing he can say.

Max, too, seems frozen. White-faced, she stares at Alec. “We don’t even know if it’s a legit-”

“Does anyone else even want it?” Tori interrupts, nervous. Glances are exchanged around the room. There’s been up to twenty-three X5s pass through Terminal City these past few months. Eight full timers that stayed, and some of them are in this room.

“We don’t have time to contact the others,” Alec says harshly. “I’m here, I’m ready to do it. If the job’s legit, we should jump on it before word leaks out and someone does get the idea to try a snatch.”

“I don’t want it. Brin won’t want to leave the baby,” Tori says. “Frankie’s seizures are getting more frequent.”

“So we ask Dita, Zola and Cheds,” Gem says, her voice hard. She’s clearly furious.

Max is nodding. “We can’t decide anything else until we know if the job is a lock,” she says, clearly relieved. “We keep on checking our sources, let’s sound out the other three possibles and meet back here in the morning.”

There’s another frozen moment and then everyone decides to get out of that room in one hell of a goddam hurry. Logan still can’t move, and thankfully Alec doesn’t even try. They both sit there while the others file out, not one of them speaking. Gem glances back over her shoulder as she closes the door, the last thing Logan sees is her hand, white-knuckled on Dalton’s arm.

They’re on opposite sides of the room. Nice touch of irony there.

“So.” Logan has to clear his throat. “Suicide is preferable to being with me. When you break up with someone you really don’t do it halfway.”

“It’s not suicide,” Alec says.

“But it is a fucking break-up, right?”

He doesn’t answer.

Logan lets out an explosive breath and drops his head into his hands, elbows on the table to bear the weight. It’s a long time before he says, “I don’t get it. I don’t – what’s gone so wrong that you want to end things? I know that I messed things up with Dita, but I didn’t- not even – we haven’t even had a _fight_.”

“I need,” Alec says, and then stops. Starts again in the same place. “I need.”

“You need what?”

“I need it to be over.”

And the air escapes Logan’s lungs like it’s been punched out. _Okay_. That’s pretty fucking comprehensive.

“You need it to be over. After months of sleeping together, after-” he grinds to a halt, can’t bring himself to say _after_ _everything_. He sounds needy enough already. “With no reason and no discussion. Just- _over_.”

Alec raises a hand to his eyes, the first sign that this isn’t as easy as he’s making it seem, and it gives Logan just enough courage to whisper, “I don’t understand. Alec. _Please_.”

He waits, heart shaking. And when it comes, it’s nothing he could have guessed.

“All last year. When we were dodging White and rescuing transgenics. All you wanted was Max.” He looks up. “And all I wanted was you.”

His mouth drops open, all motor control gone. Alec is watching him, eyes half-hurt, half-angry. The breath rushes into Logan’s lungs and then out again, and _he can’t speak_.

“You never looked my way. Not once.”

“ _Alec_.” How could he not have known that? How could he not have _seen_?

“It’s all right,” he says, clearly lying. None of this is _all right_ with Alec. But he pushes on. “I never expected you to. But _now_ –” he takes a careful breath. “Now you’re looking at me the way I always dreamed, and I can’t – I _can’t_.”

He has to ask the stupid question. “Why? Just because I’m _late_?”

Alec’s look is chiding, like Logan has all the pieces here but just refuses to put the puzzle together. Finally, voice raw, he says, “Because. It’s only happening because _she’s_ not a possibility.”

Logan sucks in a breath. “ _No_ -”

“I can’t – trust it. Can’t believe in it. Because if Max was part of the picture…”

“ _No_ ,” Logan says, shaking his head, suddenly frantic. He can see Alec in that room yesterday saying _I can’t be the fallback position_ but he hadn’t understood just how deep it went. “That’s _not true_.” His hand flies out, beseeching. “You’ve made me happier than I’ve ever been.”

“But that’s not enough,” he whispers, and now Logan can see the misery he’s been hiding. Later there’ll be time to flog himself for being so fucking clueless. “Because the way things are, neither one of us can ever know for sure if you would have chosen me. And it’s eating me up from the inside out-”

“But we’ve been so happy-”

“ _No_ , Logan.” His hand slams down on the table, head snaps up, eyes blazing. “ _You’ve_ been happy. It’s all a fucking breeze for you. You know exactly where you stand, what you’re getting and why. You know I want you, and nobody else. You don’t feel like a _substitute_ , you don’t lie awake at night wondering-”

Logan is just gaping at him. _Fuck_. Fucking _fuck_. All his words are gone, deserted him when he needs them the most.

Alec stops, stares down at the table while he gets his breathing under control and then says carefully, “Every single one of those happy moments turns to cancer for me, Logan. Because it all feels like stolen goods. Nothing earned. Nothing truly mine. And I can’t take that any more. I’m sorry I didn’t realize sooner, sorry I didn’t stop it before-”

“Before I fell for you?” Logan finishes, bitter. “For someone with enhanced reflexes your timing here is pretty shitty.”

“It’s not like I had anything to compare it to,” he shoots back. “Not like I ever expected you to-” and he stops himself, biting his lip.

The lip that Max had split right open a few weeks ago. The memory bursts over him, all the helplessness and rage and guilt. “And it’s not like that explanation is anywhere _near_ the whole truth. You’re forgetting, Alec. I _know_ you. I know your agenda. And it was only a few weeks ago that you were promising Max that she’d have her chance, one day. So don’t try to feed me this _bullshit_ about how your emotional needs weren’t being met. This is you, trying to square things with Max. Trying to return me to my previous fucking owner like a fucking stolen car.”

And he’s on his feet, a rage-and-panic combination pushing him out of that room, out of TC and when he gets out of the tunnels he doesn’t head home, too angry to settle.

He wanders Seattle in the dark instead, unarmed, tired and messed up. He’s well aware he could end up in serious trouble. But for once the broken city leaves him alone, so he’s intact and unhurt when he finally arrives home mid-morning.

Gem is there, Dalton too. They’re on their feet, waiting, by the time he’s opened the door.

Gem is finishing a phone call, her eyes running over him in a careful check. “…no, he’s fine.”

 _Oh for fuck’s sake_ , he has time to think. _Not_ a fucking _child_.

“Yeah. No. Yeah, we’ll um, we’ll tell him.” And for some reason the bottom drops out of his stomach at her tone of voice, the way her eyes slide away.

His hands clench around the keys like a vice, the sharp edges biting into his palm, drawing blood. He turns his gaze to Dalton, pale and unhappy, staring back.

Gem flips her phone shut. The three of them stand there, silent, and Logan just _knows_.

“He’s already gone,” he says. The words are raw.

Dalton flinches.

“Yes,” Gem says, her voice rough and thready. “Three hours ago, best guess. No-one saw him go.”

He lets himself slump against the door frame, turns so it’s resting along his back. Eyes closed. Hands clenched. Teeth grinding.

His weak legs give way and Logan slides down to the floor, folding up around himself.

Just like that. Like he’d always dreaded.

Puff of smoke and he’s gone.

 


	17. Male Trouble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He closes his eyes, wishing he could go back, Jesus, but how far back would he have to go? Back before he’d met either one of them?

TWELVE MONTHS LATER

 

Alec runs a restless hand over the stubble on his scalp. Almost a year of it and he’s still surprised, every single time he feels it.

Of course, he’s still shocked each morning he awakes to find the massive black pit that’s lodged where his heart and guts used to be, so…

Dalton obviously doesn’t feel like talking today. His eyes are sliding away from the camera, his body language is shouting ‘got better things to do’ and Alec sighs. “D, if you wanna do this some other time…”

There’s no reply and he just waits. _He’s_ got nothing better to do. Even at the ass-end of the night, when every other soul in Paris is sleeping. He narrows his eyes and stares at the screen, wondering all of a sudden if Dalton is going through some kind of teenage hell that Alec can’t comprehend because adolescence simply hadn’t been permitted for a Manticore soldier.

But he’s seen enough godawful late-night TV in the past year to know that in the outside world, adolescence is vastly complicated and a massive pain in the ass for all concerned. Maybe he should try to check in with Josh, or see if Gem will finally speak to him-

Suddenly Dalton lifts his head, stares straight into the camera and despite being braced for bad news, Alec has no clue what’s coming.

“Why’d you do it? Why’d you leave him?”

“Wh-what?” And Alec just sits there, poleaxed. In the two months they've been talking, he's never asked before. Carefully never mentioned Logan at all.

Dalton doesn’t shift his accusing stare. There’s pain in his eyes, a kind of betrayal resonating on a lot of different levels and as Alec’s brain catches up he straightens, heart thundering in his ears.

“What’s happened.” It’s not a question. Then his control just breaks. “Dalton, _is he all right_?”

If anything, the boy looks madder than before. “You don’t just leave somebody like that,” he says, the condemnation clear and then _fuck_ , he just gets up and walks away, like he can’t even look at Alec anymore.

“Dalton,” he says, voice shaking. “ _Dalton._ ”

He’s staring at an empty room, with an empty chair, and over the thundering of his heart, his enhanced hearing picks up soft voices in the background before another figure appears, _thank fucking Christ_.

“Gem,” he says, all his fear bright and sharp in that sound. “What’s wrong with Logan?”

She hesitates, then very slowly sinks into the chair. Her face comes clear as she leans toward the camera and he swallows, hard, searching for signs that the world has fucking ended while he was all the way over here, not even close enough to do anything, to say final words or hold his hand or-

“-he’s not sick or hurt, if that’s what you mean,” she finally says about ten frickin years later.

He folds up over the desk, just for a second, hands clasped over the back of his head as he reels himself back in. “But something,” he manages to say into the keyboard. “Right?”

When he finally mans up enough to raise his eyes to the screen, she is hesitating, eyes measuring his face the same way Dalton had been doing. He knows what she’s seeing, the empty eyes, shaved head and the pumped-up physique. This body, the only thing he has left. “ _Gem_ ,” he says, voice thick, and he raises a hand toward the screen in appeal. The only souvenir he'd taken from Logan's place lay flat on the desk, taunting him.

“I guess,” she says slowly, “what’s wrong with him is the same thing that’s wrong with you.”

And he sinks slowly back into his chair, leaves one hand covering his face. Silent.

 “It’s not working.”

His eyes close and he turns his face away.

“Is it.”

She waits a long time before continuing. “None of us understand why you’re doing this, or even what you think you’re doing it _for_. But yeah. He’s doing worse.”

“Define worse.” It’ll torture him, but he has to know. Like maybe somehow if Alec hurts _more_ there’ll be less bad mojo lying around for Logan to feel.

“No,” she says flatly. “If you’re so worried, then come and see it for yourself.”

He just stares at her. Every fucking thought in his head is jumbled and confused, emotions and decisions and intentions turning to soup, but over all of it is the sound of Dalton’s voice saying _You don’t just leave somebody like that_. When he says _okay_ the word scrapes out of his throat, rough and low.

She watches him in silence for a while. “You’re coming home.”

There’s suspicion in her voice he’s more than earned, and he nods wearily. “Tell Max she’ll need to send a replacement over here. I’ll leave as soon as they arrive.”

And she switches off the camera without another word.

 

* * *

 

Logan is in front of his usual row of glowing screens, in his wheelchair this time and Alec stops, as always, at the sight of it. Somehow, in his head, Logan is always able-bodied. He lowers his bag to the hallway floor and steps into the living room, with no idea what to do or say next. Instead he just stands there, and he can tell the moment Logan clocks _who_ just stepped through the front door.

His shoulders stiffen, drawing up in defense, and his head turns a tiny fraction to the left. There’s a long moment of frozen silence and then he turns back to face the screens. Alec waits, cowardly, for him to speak first.

“Forget your wallet?”

And right then Alec knows just how badly this is going to go. Sarcastic, bitter Logan is a rarity, but the man can bite when he wants to.

So, screw it, he might as well say exactly what he wants. First thing that comes out is unexpected.

“Why are you in that chair?”

“Why are you in this hemisphere?”

 _I missed you_ isn’t going to cut it. Not when Logan’s like this, so Alec goes for the nearest thing. “I was worried.”

He laughs at that, dry and wretched and Alec can hardly blame him. But he can’t keep going this way, either, slicing pieces off each other. “Logan-”

“I’m in the chair because I choose to be.” There’s a grim determination to the tone that Alec can’t even begin to decipher and he’s floundering, cut off at the knees to find himself suddenly unable to understand Logan. Of all the ways he’d imagined this going wrong, being shut out with _words_ had never occurred to him.

Losing him to Max, taking a punch or seven, being ostracized by everyone at Terminal City - those things he had expected, those things he would have understood. So he flails along, asking all the wrong questions. “But _why_ \- why would you choose to be?”

“What the hell difference does it make to you, Alec? Is this more fucking transgenic charity for the helpless _ordinary_?” He turns his head, not enough to look him in the face, but more than enough for Alec to see that he’s thinner, tired, unshaven.

“Logan,” he says, suddenly soft, “Please talk to me. Please look at me.”

“So we can talk when it suits _you_.”

He acknowledges the hit. “I guess I deserve that.”

“You guess.” A humorless laugh. “Well, that’s big of you.”

“You want to take a swing at me?”

A tiny headshake. “You don’t get off that easy. That’d just make you feel better, and I’m sorry to say I don’t consider it my responsibility to make you feel better. Not anymore.”

Alec is silent, swallowing around just how final that sounds. He’s staring down at the floor when Logan’s control finally snaps, the words spilling out in a way that tells him he’s been saving them up for a year.

“It was so easy for you. You just walked away… never a backward glance.”

“You think it was _easy_?” He lets out a sharp bark of laughter, shaking his head in disbelief. “ _Easy_?”

“Sure looked like it.”

He takes two giant strides forward, grabs the arm of the chair and spins Logan to face him. “ _Easy_?” he hisses, and Logan’s blue eyes are burning through him, only inches away. “It was the _worst_ thing, the _hardest_ thing I’ve _ever_ -”

He stops for a minute and then chokes out, “Worse than losing Rachel. _Worse than_ _Eddie_. Because this time I knew – I knew I was putting a bullet in someone who was begging me the whole fucking time _not to do it_.”

And that’s it, as much as he can stand today, _thanks for coming_. He’s out of the room before Logan can spit out a reply, snagging his duffel on instinct rather than rational thought, and it’s the same insane firing of synapses that has him slamming one foot down on the loose floorboard in the hallway as he shoves his way out the front door.

 

 

Logan’s breathing is still unsteady five minutes later.

In the same room again. Breathing the same air, hearing his voice. And all he’d had to offer was sarcasm and bile.

 _Well played, Cale._

 _Moron_. All these months of wishing Alec would just _come back_ and when he finally does…

It’s probably another five minutes before he takes notice of the clunk-clunk that tells him his front door is still wide open and thudding back against the wall in the breeze. Logan’s now-perpetual malaise almost lets him ignore it but thankfully that’s trumped by basic survival instinct. Forget transgenics, Eyes Only and the snake cult - this is still a broken economy and plenty of people in this neighborhood would be happy to do a little B&E to supplement a nonexistent income.

Which adds up to _shut the fucking door, Cale_ , he thinks. Once an overeducated WASP- And _no_. He’s not following _that_ particular train of thought.

He wheels into the hallway and stops dead, staring down at the scene in front of him.

Huh. That last loud thump as Alec left is suddenly explained.

One of his floorboards is tilted up, pointing to the ceiling. Not exactly a shocker, in a house this crappy, but the white envelope lying in the floor cavity below is giving Logan’s brain pan a workout. He wheels closer, frowning.

It’s been there a while, he realizes after a few more seconds. There are flecks on one end of the envelope that match up with his memory of Dalton spilling a soda on this spot. Months ago. The liquid had spread over the entire hallway by the time he’d rescued it, must have dripped down through the floorboards onto that envelope. It’s been seven months, at least.

He drags in a shaky breath and leans forward to slide the envelope up and out of its hiding place. Laying it in his lap he just stares down at it, mind a merciful blank, for once. Eyes still on the envelope he grips the edge of the door and flings it shut with a satisfying _bang_.

Then he wheels backwards, turns the chair and heads for the bedroom. He rolls over to the bedside table and jerks the top drawer open, stares down at the pile of envelopes there. Every one of them addressed to Alec.

He’s never counted them. The first handful were written in a kind of daze, sometime during that first month, and by the time he’d shifted from depression to rage, he was too bitter to let himself do that kind of accounting. Whether he was more angry at himself for missing Alec so fucking much, or Alec for doing the leaving didn’t really seem to matter by then.

He looks from the drawer to the letter in his lap again. Takes a few deep breaths, then opens it.

> Logan.
> 
> I have your letter. One of them, at least. I couldn’t risk taking any more, I didn’t know what might happen, if you knew. Maybe it would make things worse, or – shit, I don’t know.
> 
> I’m no good at this. Not that this is news to you. But I want to say – I want to tell you, somehow all the things I could never say out loud.
> 
> I loved Rachel. I did. But I was a different person, then. I’d done a lot of things, as you well know, but I hadn’t really lived. So I could only love her with my shallow, inexperienced heart. I didn’t even really understand what I was in the middle of until I’d lost her.
> 
> Now I’m a man. I’ve lived through loss and betrayal, pride and guilt and awe and regret and rage and self-denial and sometimes… lately, with you, the very purest joy. And what I’ve found with you draws on all of that and more. It’s so rich, so deep and unchanging that I can feel I am forever altered for having known you. And I guess that is why being away from you cleaves me to the bone.
> 
> I can only hope that it isn’t the same for you. That would be more than I can bear. And that is, of course, why I stood in that room  last night with your letter in my hand, listening to you breathe, but too afraid to wake you and see the look in your eye. Whatever strength I have, it isn’t equal to that task.
> 
> Forgive me,
> 
> Alec
> 
>  
> 
> Thou art my life, my love, my heart,
> 
> The very eyes of me,
> 
> And hast command of every part,
> 
> To live and die for thee.
> 
>  

 

* * *

 

“I’ve killed it.”

He’s sitting in one of the side tunnels leading to Terminal City, legs drawn up in front of him, hugged close to his chest. Joshua sighs, and Alec can imagine the look he and Dalton exchange. Yes. He is pathetic. Then they both slide down the wall to sit either side of him.

“Why’d you leave?” It’s Dalton, and this time his voice is soft. Not accusing.

He closes his eyes, wishing he could go back, _Jesus_ , but how far back would he have to go? Back before he’d met either one of them? How would he stop it happening again? He was drawn to Logan like–

 _Hah_. No easy bullshit like bees and honey. More like… a salmon swimming upstream. So fucking impossible, and yet he fought his way there on pure instinct.

“You know their history?” He says instead.

“Logan and Max?”

He nods, feels a shrug at his side. Joshua stays quiet. “They were together, sorta,” D says, uncomfortable. “Back before Manticore burned.”

“Before the virus,” Joshua murmurs, and Alec nods. Sighs.

“I didn’t know them then. But it’s not hard to fill in the blanks. Original Cindy. Asha. Hell, even Normal and Sketchy let enough slip for me to get the picture. They had this kind of… epic, written in the stars thing going on,” he gestures grandly. “No matter what life threw at them, they were loyal to each other. Lydecker, ex-wives, bounty hunters… nothing came between them for long. They were meant to be. Everyone could see it. Even me, when I finally got out. That first night I met this precious source Max was so hot to protect…”

He almost smiles. Almost. And a part of him wonders why he’s never told this stuff to Logan. “Jesus. I nearly swallowed my tongue. There he was, dying on the floor while I watched… and I could totally get why she’d gone through all the shit she’d suffered for him. He was-” his eyes close, and he shakes his head. Scrubs a hand over his face.

“Anyway. I knew even then. He was untouchable.”

“But he wasn’t.” It’s Joshua, still soft. Something about this is hurting him, and Alec remembers in a sudden burst the beautiful, blind Annie.  Alec had warned Josh away from her, and look how that turned out. Over a year later and the guilt is still crippling. A year later and life is still a fucking mess.

He shakes his head. “You don’t get it.” His head drops and he stares down at the floor, hands dangling between his knees now. He takes a deep breath and tries to find the words to explain.

“I know what I am. I’m an operator. I run scams, I slip sideways into things, I mess up. And that’s how it was with me and Logan. I _conned_ him into it. And then I scrambled like hell to keep him, always knowin’ one day it would catch up with me, blow up in my face like every other damn thing does.”

“Alec-”

“Put _me_ next to _her_ ,” he goes on, saying all the ugly stuff he’s been carrying for years, just pouring out now that there’s fucking nothing else to lose. “Look at us side by side. _One_ of us is a leader. Righteous. Moral. _One_ of us makes the hard choices, like giving up what she needs to save a life. And the other…”

The breath rushes out of his lungs and only the warm pressure of a huge hand on his back lets him finish. His heart is thundering like a racehorse and he lets his head fall forward, hands pressing over his eyes.

“I always knew I was second best,” he says, voice a thin thread of sound. “But the longer it went on the more I knew I couldn’t take-” he takes a breath, huffs it out hard. “I couldn’t be there when _he_ realized it.”

“So Alec ended it first,” Joshua finishes for him.

Now he tips his head back, stares at the damp, dark concrete above. “I thought he’d get over it. Thought he’d forget me so fast…”

“But he _didn’t_ ,” Dalton says, and his anger is returning now. “And you still stayed away.”

“No.” He has to stop for a moment, sinking back into that first glimpse from this morning, Logan’s eyes burning with hurt and blame. “No, he didn’t.”

“You say that like it’s a _bad_ thing.”

And oh thank _Christ_ , Joshua comes to the rescue. Joshua with his weird syntax and his incredible insight. “Alec panicked,” he says, almost kind. “Scared, because now Alec had hope.”

He flinches and turns his face away.

“Alec could stand losing him,” Josh says. “ _Expecting_ to lose him, all along. But if Logan might actually _choose Alec_ over Max-”

“What am I even supposed to do with that?” he rasps, hands spread in appeal. “How could he possibly – _why_ would he, when he _knows_ what kind of-”

“Logan not a scammer, Alec,” he says it slowly, his voice is thick with emotion. “Logan moral and righteous too.”

“Because he meant everything he ever said to you,” Dalton adds quietly.

“And I killed it,” he says again, the words like ashes in his mouth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The excerpt in Alec's letter is from To Anthea by Robert Herrick


	18. ‘Allo, Goodbye

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How many other ways was he going to make an idiot of himself? He met Logan’s eyes and mentally shrugged. Probably all of them - however many were left, anyway.

“I got your letter.”

Alec freezes on the spot, hand outstretched. Damn. The guy has learned some tricks. It’s not easy to fake sleep well enough to fool a transgenic.

He turns slowly, enhanced vision showing what he’d carefully avoided looking at on his way in - Logan all laid out in that familiar bed, like a feast waiting for the taking. But they’re not like that anymore, they’re in some kind of painful limbo. Alec’s the one who put them there and he can’t fix it.

Logan uses his hands to push himself upright, sliding up in the bed, and Alec guesses what he’s doing in time to glance away as the bedside lamp flares to life. He blinks once, then turns back to face Logan.

They look at one another in silence, Alec’s hands clenched as he waits for the onslaught and then Logan’s brow quirks. “Planning on a little petty theft?” And he glances meaningfully at the drawer full of letters.

“Is it theft if they’re addressed to me?” Alec says. He’s a little off-balance, what with the _seething hatred_ that’s unexpectedly missing from this conversation.

“Good point,” Logan says. “Though I’m pretty sure breaking in is still a criminal matter, even to get access to your own property. You never did let me give you a key.”

He has no answer to that, just trying to figure out what’s changed in the past twenty-four hours and it’s only then that he processes Logan’s first words. _I got your letter._

He flushes like he’s been dipped in boiling oil. The letter. He’d actually quoted _poetry_. Oh God, how many other ways was he going to make an idiot of himself? He met Logan’s eyes and mentally shrugged. Probably all of them - however many were left, anyway. It was worth it, just to be near him again.

And at that moment Logan speaks. “I’m sorry about yesterday.”

“You don’t have anything to apologize for. Not to me.” On that point, he’s absolutely certain.

“I wish – I wish I’d handled it differently.”

He shrugs, no idea what to say to that. _I wish I’d handled it differently_ probably should be their mantra from now on. Carve it on his tomb.

Logan takes in a deep breath, like he’s about to dive into the ocean. “Sit down, Alec.”

He glances up, startled. Hesitates, then lowers himself to the bed, level with Logan’s knees. Nervous, he runs a hand over his hip, fingers brushing over his back pocket for half a second. There’s a lot of silence, but he’s happy enough to wait. Happy just to be near Logan for one minute where they’re not striking at each other with all the wrong words.

“You cut your hair.”

It’s about the last thing he expected Logan to say, and it gets him to glance up again, meeting those blue eyes. His hand goes to his scalp on automatic.

“How long have you had it like that?”

He lowers his eyes to the bed again. Logan’s hand is resting on the sheet, inches away. “Did it the day I left.”

The hand flexes, Logan is pushing himself forward, sitting up straight. And then he raises his arm, hand moving slowly toward Alec’s hair. “I’m sorry I was so angry yesterday.”

Alec is gonna get whiplash if they keep going like this.

Their fingertips touch on his scalp, Logan’s scent filling his senses and he whispers, eyes closing, “Why aren’t you still angry?”

“I told you. I got your letter. Why’d you cut it?”

He hesitates. He’s still floundering, but this is different to yesterday. That conversation had been a forced march down a blind alley with a knife to the throat. This feels more like… reconnaissance. And this is _their room_ , quiet and dark the way he always loved it. And so he says carefully, “I wanted to look… different.”

“Dangerous.”

He lifts a shoulder. He’d sure been channeling the whole Do-Not-Mess-With-Me vibe all year. “Maybe. And-”

“What?” That hand trails down the side of his face, over Alec’s shoulder, then his arm, both more visibly muscled now than a year ago, finally coming to rest on the bed between them.

“You liked the way I looked,” he whispers. He hears Logan’s indrawn breath.

“Yeah, I did. I do. You know I do.”

He stops, swallowing. Then just says it. “I didn’t want to look like that anymore. Not if _you_ couldn’t see it.” _Not for anyone else_.

Logan’s eyes close. His hand encircles Alec’s wrist and they sit together, silent and still. “You’re killin’ me, you know that?” he finally whispers.

Alec has no answer to that. He stares down, his eyes finally registering the tiny red dot at the crease of Logan’s elbow. “What’s this?” he asks, daring to touch.

A faint smile touches Logan’s face. “Dalton took me for a drive after dinner. Surprise surprise, we end up at Sam’s clinic.”

Alec looks at him. In the back of his head he’s thinking _When did_ _Dalton start driving?_

“He bugs me every day about it. Keeps blood in stock, if you can believe that. Today I said yes.”

He blinks rapidly, feeling like there’s a message here he’s not getting. “Why’d you say no all the other days?”

And Logan’s face gets sad, real fast. His grip loosens on Alec’s wrist and he takes a huge breath and says, “Because I could. Because it was my choice.”

“I don’t…” he swallows, feels the frown appear on his face, “understand that.”

Logan looks away, across the room and when he speaks, the words come slowly. “Everything else – everything that’s happened to me lately. The virus. Losing my apartment. You and me starting. You leaving. They were all – they weren’t my choice. Other people making decisions for me. Doing things _to_ me.”

Oh and that guilt is like a rock lodged in his throat.

Then Logan shrugs. “This… this was up to me. It was a shitty choice, but-” he shrugs, “It was _my_ choice.”

Alec’s breath is long and loose, he bites at his lip and tries to figure out what he’s supposed to say now. They’re not arguing, but he knows at any second he’s likely to say the wrong thing and start them striking verbal blows at one another and he can’t – he just _can’t_.

In the end it’s Logan who breaks the silence. “I’m guessing you’ve been alone a lot this year.”

“Yeah.”

Logan just waits, though it takes a while for Alec to realize he’s wanting more. Is waiting for Alec to speak.

He’s out of practice with conversation.

“It was easier,” he finally says. “I didn’t want- I just did the job.”

He nods slowly, eyes still on the quilt. “Did you talk to anyone back here, at least?”

“Not really. Not for a while. The first few months it was just Mole. Keeping him up to date.”

“In case someone tried-” Logan makes a vague gesture with his hand, something nervous and Alec feels like an idiot for not realizing earlier that apart from missing him, Logan had also been worried about possible kidnappings, imprisonment, assassination. The risks that went with being an openly declared transgenic.

“In case of anything,” he said, and lets his fingertips touch Logan’s across the quilt. Their hands go still, side by side on a square of navy fabric.

“But… Dalton,” Logan finally says. Of course, he must have known the kid had been talking to Alec via webcam. No-one’s actually said it but he can guess that Dalton has stepped in to fill a lot of gaps this year, trying to keep Logan going.

“Yeah.” He’s very still, soaking up the quiet, the dark, the calm voice he’s been missing so long. They’re gentle with each other tonight, tentative, and even their speech is slowed, the pauses giving them each a chance to be sure of what they’re doing, where the conversation is going. “He was with Mole one day when I called, I asked if he’d talk to me…”

“Bet that went well.” There’s no sarcasm, just an even observation.

Alec shook his head. “He was… very angry with me. Very.”

“Teenagers tend to be – tempestuous.”

He almost smiles at that one.

“He seemed happier this morning,” Logan said.

And Alec hesitates for a long moment, then says, “I talked to him last night. And Joshua.”

“About what?”

“About why I left.”

Logan’s hand twitches, fingers moving away from his. There’s silence, and then Alec says, a little breathless, “Do _you_ want to talk about it?”

He shifts, restless, and sighs. “I do.”

“But.”

“But… I don’t want to get angry again.”

Alec nods emphatically at that. Logan is still, staring down at the bed, then he shuffles sideways, toward the chair waiting on the far side of the bed. “Give me a second,” he says, and Alec gets to his feet.

“Do you – did you want something?” Then he hesitates. Like so many other times, he’s not sure if he’s being an insensitive dick by offering to help. “I mean, I could-”

“I’ve never tried to deny your many talents,” Logan says, and a quirk drags at the corner of his mouth, “but I don’t think even you can take a leak for me.”

Alec half-smiles. “Oh. No.”

Logan’s at the edge of the bed, smiling gently over his shoulder. Then he says, “I don’t think I’m gonna get any more sleep tonight. Do you want to put on a pot of coffee?”

“Yeah,” Alec says, then clears his throat and says it stronger. “Yeah, I can do that.” He takes a deep breath and heads for the living room. But once he reaches the kitchen and flicks on the light, he stops dead, staring.

This isn’t Logan’s kitchen. Not the kitchen he remembers, at all.

It’s dusty. He stands in the middle of the space and turns slowly, seeing the signs of disuse and neglect in every corner. The sink is clean…ish. But when he opens the cupboard door he can see that almost everything in there has been untouched for months.

Or even a year.

There’s one shiny clean pot. About the right size for boiling spaghetti, maybe cooking rice. Inside the pantry, the packets of different pastas and pulses are shoved to the back, all the sauces and seasonings tipped on their sides and hidden behind generic packets and MREs Dalton must have stolen from local military bases.

His good knives have a speck of rust on one blade.

The spice rack is dusty.

He takes a few deep breaths and then turns in another slow circle, letting his eyes tell him what his heart already knows. Things are put back in the wrong places. The whole room is just… _off_. It isn’t Logan’s kitchen anymore.

“Alec?”

He’s been so distracted that he didn’t hear Logan’s approach. It's a little stunning to realize he's still capable of being distracted, after spending the entire last year on unrelenting alert. He turns and finds the world shifting yet again. Logan is standing up. Now that he listens, he can hear the slight whine and creak of the exoskeleton as he moves.

“What’s with-” and he gestures, feeling more lost than he had yesterday when Logan had refused to look him in the eye.

Logan glances down at his legs. “I thought you might be more comfortable…”

Alec flinches. “No,” he says flatly

“No?” Logan hesitates, eyebrows rising.

“You don’t need to worry about what makes me _comfortable_.”

He blinks once, twice, slowly. “Okay. Um. I’ll keep that in mind. Do you want to tell me what’s wrong?”

And for a moment Alec doesn’t know what the hell to say. Because that question jumps past the whole last year and straight back to the way they used to be. Logan can see he’s upset, knows that something has changed for Alec in the past two minutes, that he’s not just generally messed up, it’s something specific.

This is the Logan who _gets_ Alec, without even trying. Not something he’d expected to get back so swiftly, and it’s more than a little disconcerting. “It’s just. I don’t know what- I don’t know how to be here anymore.”

“Here?”

“This house. It felt- it feels.” Frustrated, he shakes his head. “It was home,” he says baldly, heart thumping, “and now it’s not.”

The older man sucks in a breath. “If it was home,” Logan says, raw, “you’re the one who left. _You_ changed things, Alec.”

He throws his hands out to the sides. “I don’t know how to talk to you now.” He moves his shoulders, uncomfortable, and crosses to the other side of the living room. “I can’t just switch back to the way things were, but I don’t know how _else_ to be, either.”

“Alec,” Logan says on a sigh, “sit down.”

He made a strange, frustrated gesture. _Exactly_. “I don’t know where to sit.” He doesn’t have a spot that belongs to him, not anymore.  He has to think about how close to Logan, whether the other man wants to look him in the eye or avoid him-

Logan closes his eyes, clearly reaching for patience. “Where do you want to sit?”

“It’s not that simple.”

“Why not?”

“Because it can’t be. It _can’t_ be that simple. I can’t just walk back in here and hey presto I get everything I want. I haven’t – haven’t _paid_.”

“Haven’t _paid_?” The light is dawning in Logan’s eyes and Alec has to look away.

It’s a long time before he finally speaks, his voice low.

“I hurt you. I almost destroyed you. I didn’t know how much – I _swear_ I didn’t know but now I’m here,” he takes a hard, hitching breath. “And I can see it. You weren’t – your _knives_ – your kitchen is covered in dust, Logan. You weren’t _you_ , because of what I did, and now I have to, I have to-”

“What? You have to be punished?”

“It can’t be this easy.” He says, shaking. “It _can’t_ be.”

“Every day you were gone was hell for me,” Logan says quietly, and he freezes. “And now you’re back and I’m still furious, still hurt, and part of me would like to punch you in the face.”

There’s silence. _Thank God_ , Alec has time to think. Consequences. Something he can comprehend.

“And yet. I’m still in better shape than you.”

Alec swallows. Turns his face away and then slowly sinks down onto the sofa. Logan doesn’t speak, doesn’t move and whole minutes pass before Alec speaks again.

“The whole time I was gone,” he says slowly, “the people I saw every day, the people I worked with… not one of them knew my name. I used a fake name the whole time, for security, and even when I called home,” he took a breath, “we maintained cover.”

“I actively avoided getting to know anyone.” He stares down at his hands. “There was one guy, Henri. He tried. He invited me to his home for dinner every few weeks and after months of that, I went. Met his wife and his kids. Nice little family.” There’s a long silence. “It was the worst night of that entire year for me.”

“Why?”

Alec shakes his head, snorts. “Because they were so _happy_. So goddam _nice_. And I just don’t have the skills for any of that. I struggle just to fake my way through _dinner_.”

“Or maybe it was because… you had that, once upon a time-”

He jumps to his feet. “Don’t you get it? Look at this place. You haven’t been yourself. For a whole year, just a shadow of who you are and _why_ is that? Because I’m too fucked up to know how to love you.”


	19. The Boys are Aiiight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Like turning a kaleidoscope, it all coalesces into something meaningful. For the first time since Alec kissed him in that alley – for the first time he can _see._

Logan jolts and flings out a hand, teetering slightly to one side despite the exoskeleton’s support. “ _What_ did you say?” His voice is hoarse.

Alec’s eyes fly to his.

“Did you just-”

Sudden awareness dawns on Alec’s face and Logan braces himself for the automatic Manticore step-back that comes from _feelings._ Instead there’s a weird half-laugh.

“Logan,” he says unsteadily, “that can’t _possibly_ be a surprise to you.”

“I- not exactly. I mean, back when we were…” _together_ , he doesn’t want to say. Because that reminds him _we’re not together now_. He breathes through the vice around his chest and tries to remember how to talk. “I used to think that maybe… you did,” he rasps, “but it’s… different. Hearing you say it.”

And he sees a flicker in Alec’s eyes that is no doubt him saying _fucked it up again, idiot_ but he seems to know, at least this once, that there’s something he can do to fix it. He crosses the room while Logan tries not to hyperventilate, thinking maybe just this once they can have a moment that actually goes right, a memory to treasure.

And then he’s there, right in Logan’s space. The warm scent he remembers, the shaved head still unfamiliar, and a terrified light in his eye as he reaches up to cup Logan’s face. They’re silent, just breathing for a moment and then he says, “From the first day I saw you. Scruffy and desperate and loathing me.”

Logan draws in a shaky breath. “What?” _The first day I_ – but - _what_?

“I have loved you all along. Always.”

“ _Alec_.” He gasps it.

“Every day.”

“Alec.” And he’s shaking now, exoskeleton or not his legs are going to give way any minute because this isn’t how it goes for him, he doesn’t get to have the one he loves, loving him  back, standing in front of him, warm and real and just as scared as he is. His body wants to go forward, straight into those arms but his heart, oh _god_ his heart just can’t take the turnaround.

“I can’t,” he chokes out, miserable. But his grips Alec’s forearm. “It’s too- Alec, this is, I wasn’t ready. I’m not ready.” _And maybe I’m never gonna be._ He can’t just make the last twelve months evaporate.

“It’s okay,” he says calmly, and he lets his hands drop away from Logan’s face. Never one to expect too much, that’s Alec. If he could expect less than nothing, he would.

Logan drags in a shaky breath. He can’t just stand there, he has to try to explain. “Alec.”

“Yes.”

“It’s not – you know that I-”

And Alec nods. Because of course, between the two of them, Alec is skilled at both hiding his own emotions, and reading other people’s. He’s seen through Logan all along.

“But I can’t trust you.” He gasps it out. “Can’t trust the things you say.”

The X5 just stands there, carefully still.

“Because it’s what you _do_ – that’s what matters.”

“Wh-what? What do I do?”

He takes a deep breath and tells the truth. “You run. You _always_ _run_.”

He flinches, hands coming up in a defensive gesture. “No, I- I wouldn’t. I _won’t_. Not again. Not after-”

“I’m not just talking about the past year.” He rakes a hand through his hair, wondering if he can do this and then thinks, _fuck it_. He has to know. He raises his head and looks Alec dead in the eye. “What happened that day, in spare parts?”

“What?”

“The day I came to TC to apologize, and I found you down in spare parts.”

And Alec freezes, eyes wide.

“You could barely look at me after. And then you didn’t come by for days.” He can hear Alec’s ragged breathing. “You were leaving me, weren’t you? Way back then, you were ending it. I didn’t figure it out until a few months ago but now I know. If it hadn’t been for-”

“Eddie,” Alec finishes dully.

He hesitates, then goes on doggedly. “If not for that crisis, I never would have seen you again, would I? Not like this, anyway. You would have just gone back to pretending we were nothing more than acquaintances, and found a way out of TC as soon as possible.”

Alec doesn’t answer.

“Right?”

His breathing is unsteady, shit, both of them are shaky, and Logan suddenly gives up, sinks down onto the sofa.

There’s a shitload of silence. Finally, Alec sinks onto his haunches in front of Logan and says slowly, huskily, “When I was fourteen or so, I mean, I’m guessing my age of course, but puberty had definitely started-”

Logan blinks. What?

“The trainers came for me. They took me to a cabin in the middle of nowhere, with three others, a guy and two girls, and basically told us to go crazy.”

He isn’t sure what the hell to say next. “That’s –this is how you lost your virginity?”

Alec shrugs, and his eyes are sad. “Spring break for transgenics.” He hesitates, then says, “It was okay, actually. I mean, apart from guards on the perimeter, they left us alone. We did whatever _we_ wanted, which was - well, that wasn’t something we’d ever experienced before. That was probably the best week of my life at Manticore.”

He just waits. How they got here from spare parts he isn’t sure, but he’s gonna let Alec take the journey in his own time.

“The next few years or so,” his voice drops lower, head down, “they’d come for us every now and then, take us back to that house. There’d be different people there, toys, shit like that.” He stops, breathing hard.

He has to ask. “Still your choice?”

Logan isn’t surprised when the answer is a hard headshake. “Not after that first time. It was more like… working through a list. Testing us. Observing. _Training_.”

“ _Christ_ ,” Logan murmurs, shaking his head.

Alec keeps going, his eyes distant. “463, he, he struggled with it. A lot. He was totally straight by inclination, I think. I was lucky there, I’d been… more flexible from the start. But not him. The girls were okay, I mean, as okay as any of us could be with those assholes standing around taking fucking _notes_. We learned how to shut it off. But I – the point is,” he swallows audibly, “what I’m trying to say is that after the first couple of visits to that house I never-”

Logan locks his hands together, just waiting.

“I had complete mastery of my responses,” he finally says. “I learned fast that sex was… a function. Something mechanical, something to be controlled.”

Now Logan is the one swallowing, flattening his lips into a line. He’s learned over the years that his rage at Manticore is pointless. Doesn’t mean he will ever stop feeling it.

“I never orgasm unless I decide to do so,” Alec rasps. “No matter how good the sex is, no matter what I’m feeling there’s always some part of me that-”

“That has to stay in control,” Logan finishes softly when Alec can’t.

“But not that day. I mean, you weren’t even _touching_ me.” He lets out a half-laugh, disbelieving. Shakes his head like it’s only just happened, like he’s still trying to reason it out. “I was so fucking afraid of you right then, you have no idea.”

“ _What?”_

And he lifts his head to look at Logan for the first time since he mentioned _that house_. “Terrified. I couldn’t even _start_ to process what you’d done to me, how you’d… made me react like that. How you’d _gotten in_.”

He hesitates, then shrugs. His breathing is shaky but he’s pushing through, and Logan’s throat is tight, witnessing this kind of courage. “Maybe worse than that, what you were _still_ doing to me in the aftermath, worrying about me, asking if we were okay. With your apologies and your rules and your honesty. It was as though you’d stripped me, but way beyond just naked, you know? I was… exposed down to the bone.”

“ _Alec.”_

“It’s okay,” and he actually smiles. Small, but real. “It’s not – there’s nothing wrong with who you are or what you did. I just… I had no way of computing that kind of stuff. And it took me completely by surprise. Which, well, hadn’t happened to me since I was fourteen, really.”

Logan’s heart is pounding. _I was so fucking afraid of you_. The words are echoing in his head, and for some reason he’s back in that cabin, a year ago, watching Alec rear up from the bed, still shaky from the seizures. Furious, railing at Logan for being _an entirely hopeless moron._

And like turning a kaleidoscope, it all coalesces into something meaningful. For the first time since Alec kissed him in that alley – for the first time he can _see._

“ _It’s all my fault_ ,” he whispers, throat dry.

“What?”

“It’s all _my fault_.” He raises his eyes to Alec’s. “My fault, because I never told you that I-” Alec blinks, and a rush of shame swamps Logan. Because even now, _even fucking now_ , after the agony of the last year, after Alec’s _told_ him, after the way Alec is slicing himself open with these memories, the very worst he has, even _now_ Logan _hasn’t fucking said it._

“God,” he says, disgusted, “could I be any more of a fool. A selfish, bumbling, blind, gutless-”

“Logan?”

He sucks in a breath, reaching for control as he cups Alec’s face between his hands. That beautiful, precious face. “I love you,” he breathes it, looking him straight in the eye. _“I love you_.”

A tiny tremor rocks the X5. “I know,” he breathes back, “Logan, I know that.”

“No, babe,” he shakes his head, sorrowful. “ _No, you don’t_. You didn’t. And it’s my fault.”

He takes a deep, shuddering breath, presses his forehead to Alec’s for a moment, like he can _make_ the X5 feel it, understand how deep, how true.

“All those months… I’ve been such an idiot. You were _right_ to be afraid of me, you were _right_ to be angry when I told you I was jealous, that I was scared I wouldn’t be the last. Because _you’re_ the one who’s been honest and open, and I’m the one that was holding back.”

When he raises his head Alec is blinking, unsure. Nervous.

“You kept telling me, you kept _showing_ me that you loved me. All those nights you just appeared in my house, after Eddie, and that night in the basement. You kept proving that I was the one you wanted, the one you _needed_. You didn’t say it but you _showed me_.”

Alec sucks in a sharp breath.

“Even after that night when I bound you, you came back and you fucking _forgave me_ -” his voice breaks and he closes his eyes against the weight of the guilt.

“And I treated you like-” shakes his head. “Like some casual…”

“Logan-”

It’s bursting out of him now, making him lightheaded with mingled fury and relief. “I knew, _I_ _knew_ you didn’t have any experience of this. I knew you didn’t have the first clue about relationships but I still acted like a stereotypical idiot. Protecting myself, dancing around it – _you mean everything to me_ instead of _I love you and I always will_ and _I’ll never let you go_ and _you can tell me anything_ and _we’ll always be together_ and _you’re it for me, there’ll never be anyone else_.”

There are tremors in his hands now, both of them shaking and he forces his eyes back up. “I’m so sorry, Alec,” he whispers. “So sorry that I was so blind, that I cost us this year.”

“Logan, it’s all right, you didn’t,” he whispers back, voice trembling, and then Alec kisses him.

And _oh God_ , how had he lived without this for all those months on end? Warmth, sweetness, breath and love. He lifts his head slowly, keeps his eyes closed. He’s not giving this up. Never again. He draws in one deep breath and lets it out as his hands slide down Alec’s shoulders, arms, to take his hands in a strong grip.

Baby steps. “We are going to spend the day in bed,” Logan announces, his lips grazing Alec’s cheek. “You can send a message to Dalton to spread the word – no calls, no visitors. Anyone who comes to our door today gets shot.” He pushes to his feet and opens his eyes, Alec rising in front of him, achingly beautiful in the gathering light of dawn. “I’ll gather up enough snacks to keep us alive. And then - we are going to cuddle.”

Alec’s head tilts to one side as he rises. He looks utterly shellshocked, it’ll be a long time before he truly trusts what Logan is telling him, but one corner of his mouth curls in a familiar sarcastic grin. “Cuddle?”

“Yes. World champion cuddling, smartass. I am not going to let go of you all day. We are going to cuddle, and we are going to talk.” _And I am going to make you believe that I love you._

There’s a long silence while Alec watches him, thinking it over. “Sounds awesome,” Alec says, and he’s not smiling at all.

 

* * *

 

They eat about half a loaf of bread’s worth of toast, crumbs all over the sheets and their fingers covered in butter. The coffee goes cold and they drink it anyway. There’s kissing. A lot of kissing. But the night’s revelations have left them both tentative and gentle with one another, so their clothes stay on. They have time for everything else.

Logan is toying with Alec’s hands, drawing patterns with the pads of his thumbs.

“When they were testing you,” he begins, and Alec tenses. But it’s a reflex, Logan can tell, not a warning to stop. A second later he breathes out deliberately, relaxes his abs, his shoulders and hands.

“How did they punish you? When you failed?” There’s silence, and then he says, “Just tell me one.” Because of course, this is Manticore, and they would have had a fucking smorgasbord of choices.

He’s trembling. Stuck.

Logan drops kisses on his face, every part. He doesn’t ask again. He just waits.

Alec’s hands are clenching and unclenching on Logan’s waist. His breath is escaping in tiny gasps. And Logan waits.

Finally, he sucks in an audible breath. Looks Logan in the eye, flinching. “Cattle prod,” he says, choked.

Logan’s gut clenches. He doesn’t let his face change, but it rocks through his body. It’s all there in Alec’s eyes, the rage, the shame, the hurt. He flattens his lips together and leans forward to press his cheek against Alec’s. Doesn’t speak. He just _can’t_. He wraps Alec up in his arms, drawing them flush against each other.

The tears just overflow. He can’t seem to tap into any rage right now. He’s just so – picturing that, it just _hurts_. Just fucking wrenches his guts to know that Alec was a teenager, young and beautiful and bewildered at being tortured. At being turned into something other than a reckless kid.

“Oh babe,” he chokes out. “I’m so sorry. So sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Alec soothes, and he’s crying too.

Logan draws back, cupping his face with shaking hands. “How? How did you emerge from that place? You’re so _beautiful_ -”

And Alec rolls his eyes in a way that’s too familiar.

“You’re so fucking amazing, I don’t even – _how_ did you survive that place?”

His breathing stills. “Parts of me didn’t,” he grits out.

Logan tightens his hands and draws their faces together. “Everything that matters did. And whatever pieces they took from you then, you’ve replaced with something that’s just _you_. There’s nothing missing in you, Alec, nothing wrong with you _at all_. Do you understand me?”

The faintest of smiles touches his eyes. _“_ Yes _, sir_ ,” Alec breathes, because he’s an _asshole_.

And Logan lets out a stuttering laugh.

 

 

* * *

 

Somewhere around lunchtime they both fall into a light doze. Spooned up against one another, hands clasped, sleeping deeply to the music of one another’s breathing. Logan wakes first, props himself up on one elbow and watches Alec for a while, just marveling at the turnaround of his life in the past forty-eight hours. Finally he’s forced out of bed by his raging thirst, he visits the bathroom as well and when he returns with glasses of water Alec is blinking awake, his smile slow to build but blinding.

It’s that same face but the hair, the unfamiliar muscles are still drawing Logan’s eye, directing his thoughts and he speaks without thinking. “What was it like? This year? Being ‘out’?”

His eyebrows flick up for just a second. Then Alec says carefully, “Nervous.”

Logan slides onto the bed and hands over the water, then grips Alec’s leg to remind himself that the X5 is home, and safe as he asks, “Did anything - happen?”

“There were… attempts,” he says in that same careful tone. “Most of the time they didn’t even lay a hand on me.”

Logan raises his eyebrows. “How did that come about, exactly?”

“There was a surveillance team. The X7s and a few others. They spotted most of the interest a long way out, intercepted.”

Logan nods slowly. He had visited TC only twice this past year. Hadn’t noticed anyone missing, and it wasn’t like anyone was going to fill him in on the situation, considering he’d been little more than a zombie. After the first few weeks he’d stopped asking any questions at all about what was happening in France. Well, Gem had banned him, more like. The nightmares had gotten ridiculous.

“So it was… okay? No problems?”

Again, Alec hesitates. “Nothing major. I had to escape from a moving car once, and the South Africans were back for another go, plus…”

Logan’s eyebrows ask the question and he shrugs. “Well, I also had to kick the crap out of part of the security team I was assigned to. You know, some idiotic marking-my-turf kind of garbage.”

“How much of the team?”

“All of them.”

“Your entire detail? At once?” Logan raises his eyebrows. Security operatives for heads of state are no cream puffs. “I bet that made you popular.”

Alec shrugs, face calm. “Wasn’t like I gave a crap about making friends. Although…” he slants a glance up at Logan. “That’s kind of how I met Henri. The guy I was talking about?”

With the wife and kids, Logan remembers. The suburban dinner.

“He uh, walked in on the aftermath. Had to do damage control.”

“What kind of damage control?”

“Well… the fight happened in the cafeteria of the government building. There were uh, a lot of witnesses.”

“No bystanders hurt?”

He snorts, “No man, are you kidding?” There’s a hardness in his tone Logan’s never heard before, all the sharp edges of his training visible for an instant. He’d taken those guys down without breaking a sweat, Logan can almost see it. The power, the speed and the training all coming to a perfect point, an unerring display of power. “Aside from those jerks, anyway. It was all over in about twenty seconds, but, you know. Tables smashed. Food everywhere. It wasn’t pretty.”

“And Henri befriended you after that?” Interesting.

Alec shrugs. “I think initially he was embarrassed. Like those guys had given French hospitality a bad name or something. He’s kind of conservative.” There's an expressive hand gesture as he adds, “Gallic pride, you know?”

“I can imagine,” Logan says with a faint lift of his brows. He’d met his fair share of proud Frenchmen when he’d spent a summer travelling with buddies. Pre pulse, of course.

Vaguely curious, he asks, “So you were assigned a new detail, I assume?”

And Alec’s face hardens again. “Nope.” There’s a gleam of nasty amusement in his eyes. “We worked together all year.”

Logan scans his face, picturing that. Can’t imagine a more hostile environment. There’s the job, dangerous and high risk in the first place. Then there’s his co-workers, loathing him and full of resentment. Then add another layer of French military, bureaucrats, scientists all trying to find a way to get a piece of him. and then beyond that the unidentified risks like the South Africans. “It was a hard year for you.”

“Nothing I couldn’t handle,” he says, face suddenly remote.

What he means, of course, is _nothing I didn’t deserve._

Logan leans forward and kisses him, slow and deep and aching. “I love you,” he murmurs in the middle of it, and feels Alec’s quick gasp of surprise, but he just keeps right on kissing. His hand comes up to clasp Logan’s nape, and the tiny noise he makes is fire through the veins.

“I love you,” he says again. _Believe it._

 

* * *

 

 

Late afternoon sun is filtering in through the curtains. It’s bright and hot and lights up Alec’s skin as though he were some kind of burnished statue. Logan watches him for a long moment, the perfect silhouette, his head propped up on one muscled arm, and then he says, “Ok. So say something in French to me.”

Alec gives him a long considering look. Then he runs one finger along Logan’s jaw and says, “Pour cet homme me connaît et pourtant il m'aime.”

“Oh,” Logan chokes out. “Oh you _bastard_. That was _beautiful_.”

 His brows lift. “I wondered if you spoke it.” But he looks very satisfied. They’re going to be speaking a lot of _filthy_ French in bed in the near future. It’s as inevitable as the tide.

“You’re not teaching any language classes in TC,” Logan pants into his mouth. “If they ever ask you.”

He can feel the smirk spread across Alec’s face, and he doesn’t give a shit. “Not even Urdu?”

“Not even Esperanto,” Logan shoots back, and bites his bottom lip gently. “You could make anything sound sexy and the X6s all seem to be hitting their sexual maturity at once. I’m not ready to fight them all.”

Alec snorts, palming Logan’s ass through his jeans. He doesn’t even seem to notice the frame of the exoskeleton, and for one second Logan is just swamped by the realization, the belief, the _knowledge_ that it’s true. It’s real.

 _He’s loved_.

The same insane, possessive, absolute, unmoving force that swamps him every time he sees Alec – it has the X5 in his grip as well. They’re both infected with the same madness.

“You love me.” It just slips out.

“Well, _duh_ ,” Alec murmurs against his lips.

And Logan laughs, delighted. _Believing_.

 

* * *

 

By early evening Logan is wallowing in guilt. All that time they’d been together, how had he been so oblivious to the damage he was doing? He’s going back over everything Alec ever said and did, seeing all the clues and all the hints that he’d missed – _I didn’t come here for Eyes Only, I came to_ _you_ – how had he not seen what that _meant_?

All Alec’s doubts, right there in front of him - _I have no rights to you, and I can’t forget that._

If he’d taken an Amish virgin from the fields and fucked her over he couldn’t feel more guilty. When he says so, Alec lets out a startled laugh, bringing up a hand to cup Logan’s head.

“Come on.”

“I mean it.”

Alec subsides, eyeing him carefully. He’s turning Logan’s words over in his mind. “You mean… like… falling in love was the only virginity I had left?”

Now Logan half-smiles. “I hadn’t really thought of it like that. But yeah.”

He’s leaning over Alec, nuzzling his throat and listening to the soft gasps, the sound deeply satisfying on a level Logan can’t even begin to describe.

“I know we have time,” Alec begins, his voice rough, “and we both agreed taking it slow was smart, oh _God_ , Logan, do that again… but… my dick disagrees.”

He laughs and grinds his own erection against Alec’s thigh. “What, you think I’m not affected?”

Alec drags him up and kisses him, hard. “Then why are we waiting?”

“Because,” Logan gasps against his mouth, “we jumped straight in last time and screwed it all up. It won’t kill us to hold back a little.” His eyes roll back in his head when Alec’s hand snakes inside his shirt, rasping his nipples. “You know, for a day or two at least.”

Now Alec is the one laughing. “What happened to a few weeks?”

“You and your damn hands happened to it, that’s what.” Logan slithers back, using his hands, until there’s some air between their bodies. “Jesus. Ok. Look, pretend we’re in high school, okay?”

“I never went to high school,” Alec growls, He’s following Logan down the bed. “And if this is what high school was like, it sucked balls.”

“My God, are you in heat or something?” Then he freezes. Oddly enough, in all this time it’s never occurred to him to ask. “Shit. _Are_ you? I mean, do you?”

“Do I what?”

“Do you go into heat? Like M-” he stops abruptly, unsure whether he is gonna cause trouble by saying her name.

“Oh. No. I don’t. That’s a purely female thing.” He answers without hesitation, and something inside Logan’s chest relaxes.

“Ah. I wondered.”

“Anyways, they fixed that a few years after the first escape, once the girls hit puberty and the symptoms showed up.” He’s nuzzling Logan’s wrist, and it’s a struggle not to pant. “Some hormonal imbalance or something. Max would have gotten the treatment when she was back inside. Manticore wasn’t about to let its soldiers get distracted mid-mission by something like that.”

“Huh. Okay.” He sees the light in Alec’s eye as he closes in for another kiss and raises a hand, _stop_. “Alec.” He hesitates, can feel the color stealing into his cheeks. “Uh, listen. The other reason I want to wait is…” he sighs, gestures awkwardly to the lower half of his body. “I’d rather um, wait until my legs are back.”

Alec sits back. Then he frowns, just a little, his eyes wandering over Logan’s body. “You’re not worried – Logan, you know _I’m_ not bothered-“

“No, I know,” Logan hastens to add. “I get it. It’s me. I’d like – I want… it’s better for me if the transfusions have had time to take effect.”

Alec nods slowly. “Okay. All right then.” He remains still for a good two minutes, toying with Logan’s fingers before he angles a playful glance up. He’s being deliberately gorgeous, Logan can tell. “Wanna go to Sam’s clinic?”

Logan rolls his eyes and laughs. “Yeah,” he mutters. “Fine.”

Alec kisses him and he hums into it. Maybe he’ll take a double transfusion. Just to see if it speeds things along.

“All right. Let’s go.”

 

 

* * *

 

“Alec.” He turns around a full second too late, not quite used to that name again after a year of pretending to be someone else.

He meets the eyes of a short, balding man, and it takes a second before he recognizes him. “Dr Carr.”

“Can I speak to you for a minute?”

“Uh, sure.” He glances back at Logan who is settling in, rolling up his sleeve and watching the nurse hang the bag. The other man looks up and sends him a slight smile, _I’m not going anywhere_ and Alec just takes a breath, wondering how long it’ll be before this feels anywhere near normal or everyday again. “I’ll just be outside, okay?”

Logan nods.

They step into the hall and Alec waits for the other man to speak. _Sam_ , he remembers now. Logan calls him Sam.

He seems uncomfortable. “I seem to remember you were a regular donor… before.”

“That’s right.” Logan was insisting on using the stores Dalton and Gem had already donated, for today. At a guess, he isn’t going to let Alec do anything but eat for the next little while.

“And you’d like to… resume?”

“Yes.” He glances back at Logan, uneasy at being too far away. Man, he is gonna have to cut back on the hovering. At some point.

Next year, maybe.

“For how long?”

And Alec freezes. He recognizes that tone, and suddenly the reason for this quiet conversation becomes very clear. He turns slowly to meet Sam’s gaze.

Sam’s been Logan’s doctor for years. He’s seen him through the gunshot wound and the paralysis that followed. He’s had the freak show of Manticore viruses and transgenics parading through his clinic, has lied to the CDC for Logan, and lately, obviously, has watched the guy slide right down into the pit. And now that level gaze is doling out the blame and the watchfulness in equal measure.

He takes a second to breathe through the guilt. Then says, “ _Permanently_.”

The doctor’s face doesn’t register any reaction to that, he just turns and indicates a room across the hall. “In that case we should run some screening tests to make sure nothing has changed in the last twelve months.”

Alec takes a few steps, obedient, glancing back once to see Logan settle back on the bed, smiling easily at the nurse as she slides the needle into his arm.

Alec pauses and watches as Sam goes through the same routine, slides himself up onto a bed identical to Logan’s.

“You were overseas, I understand?” Sam asks without turning.

“That’s right.”

“Where?”

“Uh, Europe.”

“No side trips to Africa or Asia?” He turns.

“No,” Alec says, a frown starting. “It wasn’t exactly a holiday.”

“I’m sure,” Sam starts toward him and then Alec’s head snaps around. Something’s wrong- he bolts across the hallway and reaches Logan’s side in less than a second.

Logan’s struggling to sit up, face pale and waxy, and Alec can hear the wheezing of his breath as it labors in and out of his lungs. “Ale-”

“I’m here, shhh,” he manages. “I’m here.” Their hands grip tight.

“Doctor-” the nurse is calling, she sounds shit-scared as she tries to press Logan back into a prone position.

“What happened,” Sam snaps, stethoscope appearing in his hand as he, too, presses Logan back.

“Relax, babe,” Alec soothes, almost choking on it. Those blue eyes meet his, blinking rapidly. “Lie back. Let the doc look at you.” _What the fuck is going on_?

Sam is listening to Logan’s lungs, fierce concentration on his face. “Has he seen Max today?”

 _What?_ “No.”

“Has she been to the house?” He glances at the nurse, “Adrenaline,” he orders and she spins away.

“ _No_ ,” Alex says, more vehemently this time because Sam has got the wrong idea and he’s _wasting time_ with this. His hand tightens around Logan’s. “I’ve been with him since the middle of the night. There’s been no-one else at the house, we haven’t left each other’s sight for longer than ten seconds.”

Sam is staring down at Logan, completely nonplussed, one hand measuring pulse, another shoving up his sleeve, his shirt, looking for markers on the skin. “Alec, this is all textbook. It’s the virus.”

“But how _can_ it be?” His eyes are locked on Logan’s face, sees the panic there at the word _virus_.

“Alec,” he manages, voice barely there.

“Thank God he was already infusing,” Sam is muttering, taking the adrenaline from the nurse. “And thank God he was already here.” He glances up and for just a moment the doctor mask slips. “This is the most rapid onset I’ve seen.”

Alec turns to stare up at the bag. “The blood,” he mutters, hoarse. “Sam _, the blood._ ”

Sam blinks, and by the time he turns his head toward the I.V. pole Alec has circled the bed in a blur and yanked the cannula out of Logan’s arm.

“ _What_ are you-”

“It’s the blood. It’s _Max’s_ blood,” he gasps, head spinning. He and Sam gape at each other across the bed. “It has to be.”

“ _Fuck_ ,” Sam spits, and as if instructed, Logan’s body arches up in a seizure.

“Take mine,” Alec cries. “Give him my blood.”

Sam shakes his head, still absorbing, and Alec doesn’t know if its general mistrust or just years of medical training that say _not until you’ve been tested_ so he barrels on. “Sam, I swear, there’s nothing to find. I haven’t slept with anyone else, I haven’t developed a drug habit or gotten a fucking tattoo.  I swear to God- I would _never_ endanger-”

“All right.” And Sam takes his hands off Logan, half-sprinting to one of the nearby cupboards.

Alec wrenches his jacket off and flings it across the room, leaning over Logan again, trying to meet his eyes. “I’m _here_ , babe,” he rasps. “I’m here.” He fumbles for a hand and grips it, holding out his other arm for Sam. “Hold on. I’m here.” It’s all he can say.

The sting of the needle entering his flesh is the best fucking feeling he’s had all year.  “Hold on,” he says again as those blue eyes roll back in Logan’s head. “Just _hold on_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes: French translation (to save Babelfish from multiple hits!) is _for this man knows me and still he loves me_


	20. 411 on the Virus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “He’s gonna be _fine_ ,” she says fiercely.  
> Alec closes his eyes against her shoulder, feels the sting of tears. They wouldn’t be saying it so much if they really believed it.

_Touch and go_. He can’t let go of Sam’s words. He’s standing next to the bed in some kind of fugue state when a different voice gets his attention.

“Alec,” Robert Berrisford says, and the strain in his voice sends Alec straight back into his older nightmares. That house, the ghost of Rachel’s music, of holding her cool hand in his as he said goodbye.

“What?” he says without turning.

“I need to talk to you.”

“ _Now?_ ”

“Yes,” he says very firmly. “Right now.”

“I-uh, all right,” he replies, totally at a loss. He doesn’t want to move but his first instinct is always gonna be to comply with an authoritative command. Also, he's suddenly remembering that Robert has kept on working on the virus, despite Alec's absence. Or maybe because of it. He casts a helpless look toward Logan’s bed, and Gem runs a hand down his arm. He has no idea how long she’s been there.

Probably since Dalton left, furious at Alec’s refusal to care who caused this. He can’t begin to explain to the kid how little it matters right now, that until Logan is better he can’t spare any time to wonder _why_ it happened, or _how_ , or _who_.

“I’ll stay with him,” she murmurs.

He follows Robert into the hallway and they stop just outside the door, Sam moving up to join them. They both have the same expression, the kind of blankness that even a transgenic knows is shitty news.

“What?” he snaps. “What now?” He feels his back hit the wall and realizes he’s edging away on instinct.

“We’re-” the two men exchange a look and then Robert says, “We need to talk things over with you, Alec. There’s a decision that has to be made, and…”

“…you’re his medical proxy,” Sam finishes.

“His what?”

“He has you down as his next of kin. If he’s unable to make a decision…” Robert trails off and they exchange a look that’s full of memories of Rachel.  He can hear the other man’s voice from years ago, trembling with rage and grief. _Watching somebody you love slip away_

“But he – that’s not, he’s not that _bad_. The transfusions will-”

“That’s the thing,” and now Robert’s voice is careful. “Alec, I’ve been going over and over the research, the bloodwork, for months. I can’t beat the virus. I’m sorry.”

“What are you saying? The transfusions won’t work this time?” he can barely get the words out of his throat.

“I believe they’ll work,” he says, exchanging a glance with Sam. “In fact, I think they’re the only thing that will. But-”

“Robert, just _tell me_.”

“Whatever soup Sandeman made your blood from, I can’t duplicate it, not without the original research. But it’s unbelievably potent. It reacts to kill the virus even with no prior exposure. I think this is the only way to beat it. Continual infection coupled with continual transfusions.”

“What? Continual – what?” Then it hits. “You mean, _re-infect him_?”

Robert nods.

“No,” he rears back, instinctive. “ _No._ ”

“Alec,” he reaches out to grab his forearm, grip like iron. “I would never have suggested a treatment this risky, ethically I could never have countenanced it. But now that it’s happened, we have to react to the new situation. You have to decide this now. The other exposures, they were incidental. Skin to skin only, they were _nothing_ compared to this. Having Max’s blood in his system, this is a complete overload.”

Alec winces, turns his face away and Berrisford presses on.

“I believe that transfusions will work, but we need to beat it now, completely. If we just treat it until he evens out, like Sam has done before, he’ll be on a hair trigger. Like a- a food allergy that builds in sensitivity, even the slightest exposure to the virus in the future and he’ll be dead before he hits the floor.”

“I can’t,” Alec is gasping. “ _I can’t_.” God. Re-infect him?

“You have to,” Robert grates. “You have to make a decision.”

“If you decide to do this,” Sam steps forward, still quiet, “we need to marshal all the donors you can get. We’ll need to have transgenic blood going into Logan around the clock. Ten donors at least, twenty would be better.”

He yanks his arm out of Berrisford’s grasp and folds up around himself, staring down at the floor. Everything going around in his head, all the risks and the variables and the sight of Logan, pale and still in that bed, hand losing its grip on Alec.

 _I’ve been gone for a year. Wasted an entire, fucking_ -

“Do it,” he finally chokes out.

 

* * *

 

The beeper on Gem’s belt starts up, but she keeps going, racks her bike and finds the payphone just outside the lobby of the clinic. She dials the familiar number. “Hey, its me.”

“We found her,” Dalton says. There’s a thrumming energy in his voice, Gem doesn’t need to ask for more information. Only something to do with Dita would give him this kind of satisfaction. In some weird way, Alec’s complete disinterest in Dita’s whereabouts, in any kind of revenge, had spurred Dalton even further.

“And?”

“She didn’t want to answer questions.”

“So… where is she now?”

“Discussing her failure to fulfil her contract,” he says, flat and mean.

Gem draws in a slow breath, recognizing Mole’s hand in that decision. The Mafiosos who’d paid Dita to kill EyesOnly were not the forgiving type. Witness the long, long wait before they’d exacted their revenge on Logan.

Dalton adds, “You can tell Alec she’ll never hurt us again.”

“Yeah,” is all she says. On one level, she’s bothered by this. Killing one of their own, it’s… undesirable. On another level, she’s just sorry she didn’t get to do it herself.

Dalton has been untroubled by that kind of inner conflict. He _hates_ Dita. Really hates her, with the single-minded passion of a teenager. In a way, Gem’s kind of stunned he didn’t just lash out and kill the other X5 the minute they’d located her. Mole must’ve had his hands full.

She bites her lip, can’t help wondering what Logan would think of all of this. Knows in her gut how saddened he’d be, especially by Dalton’s role. But as amazing as Logan is, he’s never going to totally get it. Some training you can never leave behind. And then there’s the tiny, shitty voice in the back of her head saying _Logan will probably never know anyway._

“I’ll see you after lunch,” she mutters, and hangs up. Takes a few deep breaths before she steps away from the phone. She runs into the doctor – forgotten his name again – in the hallway and they fall into step.

“Any change?” She tries not to sound as desperate as she feels. She’s a soldier, trained to fight a variety of enemies, not wait around while invisible foes silently battle for her friend’s life. This is excruciating. She can’t even begin to imagine how Alec is coping with it.

Except of course, that it’s obvious to everyone that he’s _not_. Not coping at all. He’s just vibrating through the days in a kind of terrible tension, _waiting_.

“I’m afraid not,” he says. “But he’s no worse, and that’s a victory of sorts.”

Right. He hasn’t died _yet_. Hopefully the doc isn’t giving that kind of non-comfort to Alec. The other X5 is in no state to accept that kind of half-assed non-help.

Then they reach the door of Logan’s room and freeze in unison.

Logan looks just as bad as yesterday. Pale. Still. No sense of him being there.

But _Alec_ \- Alec is smiling. His body language – he’s upright. Alert. Ecstatic.

Gem blinks and turns her head to stare at the doctor for a second, seeing the same confusion there.

“Doesn’t he look great?” Alec says, face alight.

They both just stare.

“Alec,” Gem finally says, and then stops. She can’t find any words to follow that.

“What?”

“Alec,” the doctor begins, and then he too stops. Okay. So the professional doesn’t know how to handle this, either.

Finally Alec turns the whole way to face them. He is still clasping Logan’s hand in his own, but as the bright lights hit Alec’s face Gem stakes a step back and the doctor sucks in a sharp breath.

It’s a toss-up which one of the men looks worse. Alec is glassy eyed and ghost-white.

“Did you sleep at all?” The doctor’s voice is sharp as he steps forward.

“But he’s-” Alec gestures with his free hand, like he can’t believe the two of them aren’t busting out the party favors.

“Alec,” Gem swallows and forces herself to speak gently, “No. He’s not.”

He blinks at her, confused. “But-” and when he glances back at Logan she can see the jolt go through him as he takes in the sight of the other man, still unconscious and white as his sheets.

The silence stretches into painful horror. “I don’t-” he says, and then just chokes.

“You need some sleep and a good home-cooked meal, or three,” the doctor says.

In that moment Max and Joshua walk in, Max’s quiet “Hey” dying in the face of the tension in the room.

Everyone is looking at each other, sharp eyed and afraid and finally the doctor says, “He’s hallucinating.”

“Logan?” Max’s voice cuts through the air.

“Alec,” Gem replies, and all eyes turn toward the man sitting by the bed.

He doesn’t move an inch, still shaking from the betrayal happening inside his own head. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine. I’m telling you - as your doctor _and_ his - that you need to get out of this room for at least four hours. I’d prefer longer. You need to sleep and eat.”

“I can’t,” he says, but it sounds helpless more than obstructive.

The doctor takes a slow, patient breath. “Why not?”

“He said.” Alec swallows. “It was almost the last thing he said to me.”

“What?” Gem steps forward, touches her fingertips to his shoulder.

“That I run.”

And everyone freezes.

“It’s my default setting. I always leave, he said, and he’s _right_.”

“This is - different,” Max says hopelessly.

“He won’t understand that. He’ll think I left. He’ll think I’ve abandoned him. _I always leave_.” He takes in a few shuddering breaths and Gem’s hand grips his shoulder, suddenly realizing Alec is totally broken, totally exposed, here in a brightly lit room full of people watching and it’s so wrong, but the words tumble wretchedly from his lips anyway, “I can’t- I _can’t_.”

There’s a trembling moment of silence and then Joshua, of all people, steps forward. “Alec’s shirt,” he says gruffly.

“What?” Gem says it for all of them, since Alec is stuck in his mute misery.

“Shirt.” And this time the giant gestures, mimes taking off a t-shirt.

Alec just blinks at him dully, but he’s clearly at a point where he can’t do much thinking for himself, and so he does as he’s told and Gem steps back, watching as he strips. His torso is still well-muscled, he’s stayed supremely fit in his time overseas but he’s lost mass just in the ten days he’s been back. The doctor’s right about him needing a few square meals.

Joshua points. “Leave shirt with Logan,” he says, voice softer now. “Logan will know Alec is here. With him.”

 _Ohh_. Beautiful. Gem looks at Joshua with approval, but the dog-man is focused totally on Alec. He gestures, again, and Alec complies, spreading his shirt over Logan’s torso, fingers gently twitching it flat, patting and fussing until it’s just right. No-one else offers to help, it’s Alec’s task to complete and Alec’s scent, pure, on the cloth.

The doctor moves toward the door and exchanges a look and a nod with Max as he goes. Those two have clearly shared more than a few hospital vigils in their time.

“Alec,” Max finally says. “Come on. I’ll take you home.”

He’s swaying on his feet, still staring down at Logan, and Gem has to physically draw him away with a hand on his shoulder.  “It’s all right,” she murmurs into his ear. “I’ll stay with him. Okay?” She gives Max a careful once-over as she guides Alec toward the door. She has a lot of respect for the other woman’s leadership, but she also has high-definition memories of the beating she handed Alec over this whole mess. She’d found Logan’s stack of photos six months ago. Thank God Dalton never saw them.

“I’ll call Dalton,” she murmurs. The kid should be warned what’s coming home, and maybe to keep the news about Dita to himself. Alec just can’t take any more information.

Max meets her gaze with her own cool appraisal. Neither of them speaks, but Gem is confident that any jealousy is submerged in concern, for now. Max won’t do anything to mess up Logan’s treatment and recovery, and they all know Alec is the key to that.

 

* * *

 

Alec stumbles along the corridors behind Max, lost in the fog. He stops, obedient, when Sam emerges from a nearby room with something in his hand, and he submits when the fresh scrub shirt is lowered over his head, tugged down his chest.

Max’s bike is parked outside and he slides on behind her without speaking. The ride through Seattle is the same as everything else, grey and flat and stale and it’s not until they pull into Logan’s street that he suddenly inhales, a knife to the chest to see their home again and know he’s not inside.

Still, he follows Max up the stairs and inside, meets Dalton’s worried gaze from his spot in the middle of the kitchen. There’s the smell of …something, he’s _cooking_. _Dalton’s_ the reason there was even one clean pot in that kitchen, he’s the one who’s been supplying basic rations since Alec left and Logan stopped entertaining.

He can’t eat. Not when his eyes keep wanting to lie to him. He’d _seen_ it – Logan, sitting up in that fucking hospital bed, color back in his face and a soft glow in his eyes as he’d taken Alec’s hand. No way he could go anywhere near the place where Logan had cooked parmigiana for him, made him toast after Eddie died, kissed him up against a sink full of dirty dishes.

He stumbles toward the bedroom instead and then stops in the doorway, swaying.

A hand pushes him forward and he slaps at it, but Max just keeps on fucking pushing because _that’s what she does_ and he snarls at her.

“Lie down before you fall down,” she says, and her voice is gentle.

Not on their bed. He shakes his head. Can’t say it.

“Alec,” she gets impossibly soft, “lie down. He needs you not to collapse.”

He drags in a huge, shuddering breath, takes two steps and then stops. One last gentle push from her and he sinks down to sit on the edge of the bed. She sighs and kneels, drawing his boots off and then, for some reason, her own.

“Lie down,” she says again, only this time she slides onto the bed next to him. Her hand on his chest and suddenly he’s lying down, the scent of Logan on the sheets. He closes his eyes, very far from sleep, and finally rolls over to bury his face in the fabric.

They are silent for a long time, and then out of nowhere she says, “Do you remember the day we fought? On the roof?”

He turns his head, eyes open and she’s very close, staring right into his eyes. They’re lying close together on a bed, and it couldn’t feel less intimate. Everything is numb, not just for him, he realizes suddenly, for her too. They are two blocks of ice, locked together in their grief.

“Yes,” he says, because he apparently still has to function, no matter how empty he feels.

She says slowly, “I asked you how you ever got the guts to touch him.”

“Yes.”

“And you told me, you said _I had to_. _I couldn’t not touch him_.”

“Yes,” he says again.

“Alec,” she whispers, and her eyes are full of tears, “that’s why. Why he belongs with you.”

Alec blinks. He’d almost forgotten that had ever been a question, he was so far past that now. He and Logan were twined together, _fused_ , and morality or regrets or prior claims could _go fuck themselves_ for all he cared.

“I…”

“That’s the difference between you and me,” she went on, tears brimming over. “You had the guts to reach out for what you wanted. I never did. It’s why you deserve him.”

He stares at her for a long time and then says, “I don’t care anymore if I deserve him. I don’t care if the virus is gone, _I don’t care_ if you want him back.”

She lets out a long, shuddering breath. “Good. That’s good.”

“You can’t have him. He’s _mine_.”

“ _Yes_ ,” she says, nodding, and then slides her arms up, around Alec’s neck. “He’s yours, and he’s gonna be fine.” She pulls his body close to hers, warmth seeping in and he lets out a long breath.

“He’s gonna be _fine_ ,” she says fiercely.

Alec closes his eyes against her shoulder, feels the sting of tears. They wouldn’t be saying it so much if they really believed it. He’s starting to lose faith. Just a little.

“Max-” he chokes out, voice wild and sharp.

Her arms tighten, impossibly strong. All wrong, that strength. All he wants is _Logan_.

“He’s gonna be fine,” she says, furious now. She shakes Alec a little, like a dog with a rat. “Absolutely fine. And you are going to get some sleep now, so you’re ready for when he opens his eyes. Then you’re gonna eat. We both will. You are going to take care of yourself so you’re ready to take care of him.”

“Okay.” He takes a few deep breaths. He needs to believe it. “Okay.”

“Go to sleep,” she murmurs, calming again. “It’s okay. He’s not alone, he’s surrounded by family. And I’m here with you. You can sleep. Just for a while. Just to get strong again.”

And after a while, it’s true. He sleeps for hours, his body heavy and hot when he wakes. From the murmured conversation in the living room he gathers that they’ve proven Dita was the one to spike the blood. And that she’s been found and dealt with. He can’t spare any energy to care.

Dalton has food ready when he emerges from the bedroom, and Alec eats automatically, the way he used to at Manticore. He can feel the others exchanging glances over his head, but his thoughts are far away.

“I’m going to take a shower,” he says, pushing away the empty plate. Dalton reaches for it and some memory twigs in his head as the thin wrist comes into view. “Dalton,” he says, and the hand freezes. He looks over at Alec.

“Thank you for the meal,” Alec says. Logan’s mother had always insisted that the cook be acknowledged.

Dalton nods, eyes very wide. “You’re welcome,” he mutters, the way Logan had taught him to.

Alec makes his way to the shower, throat tight as he guards against memories that threaten to drown him. The warm water helps, but he keeps his eyes shut tight against the image of Logan, that first night, wary and covered in shampoo.

When he’s out and dry, he draws clothes from the bag he finds next to the bed. Someone has retrieved his belongings from Terminal City and dropped them off. So he pulls on another pair of jeans and a henley and slides the only item he habitually carries to into his back pocket, eyes locked on the bedside table the entire time. When he drops down to sit on the bed and draws it open, he has to swallow twice.

He knew the letters were there. Of course. He’d stolen one, months ago. But there’d been only a handful at the time. Probably eight or so. It was why he hadn’t taken more – would have been too noticeable.

But now – the drawer is overflowing. There must be forty, fifty or more. Some of the envelopes are full to bulging, barely able to seal shut, others holding probably only one sheet of paper. But all with his name on them.

He draws in a deep breath and slides the drawer all the way out. Carries it through to the living room. Dalton and Max rise as he walks in, and he sees the teenager’s reaction to what he’s carrying. Max is frowning slightly, not a clue what she’s looking at.

“I need – I need something to put them in,” Alec says. If anyone asks him a question, he is totally screwed. Couldn’t begin to describe what he’s doing, couldn’t begin to form words past the tight feeling in his throat.

Dalton gives one short, sharp nod, and vanishes into one of the other rooms. Max takes a step forward, eyes sliding over the drawer and its contents and Alec watches her blink, then the realization spread over her face as she sees the same name on every envelope. And then Dalton is there, a backpack in his hands.

“Here.”

“Thanks,” Alec says, and they work together to tip the envelopes into the backpack without letting them spill on the floor.

When they’re finished, when Alec is zipping up the backpack, Dalton says, “I can – should I make dinner?”

“I really need to go back.” It’s been too long, he’s anxious now, like a junkie overdue for a fix.

“Why don’t you make something portable,” Max says, clearly reading Alec’s expression. “You can bring it by tonight.”

Dalton nods, and Alec hefts the backpack over one shoulder. “Let’s go.”

At the door he hesitates, then glances back at Dalton. Something about being in this house is reminding him that there is still a world out there, that he and Logan had been part of something larger than just the two of them. He sucks in a breath at the realization that he’s thinking of _him and Logan_ in past tense and forces himself to speak. “I’ll see you tonight.”

 _I’ll try to do better._

Dalton’s worried face clears slightly.

And for the next few days, he really does try. He reads the letters, he eats the food that’s put in front of him, he catches naps in one of the on-call rooms, and he _tries_.

 


	21. Letters

> “…I dreamed of you last night – you, and Ames White. Locked in a room. Cold steel, ropes, and fire. When I woke the dream came with me. I had smashed the lamp and broken a window before I could regain some kind of control. I couldn’t risk sleeping again, I walked the floor instead until the sun came up and forced the dream to relax its grip.
> 
> White. The monster. I have loathed the fact of his existence for almost two years. For Annie, for Biggs, for Ray and all the countless others. But despite all of the ugliness he’s done in reality, I’m ashamed to say I’ve found a way to hate him even more today, because of a dream. The imaginary evils he visited on you have stolen my most basic denial, my only shield. Beneath all my rage and disappointment, White’s image forced me to admit that I love you still.”

Alec takes a breath and lifts his head to stare at that familiar face. He’d opened his eyes this morning, for a minute or so.

“I love you still,” he says, and strokes one thumb across the back of Logan’s hand. Day turns to night and they are both unmoving.

Hours later he hears a soft noise in the corridor and he glances around. “Dalton?” he calls, because the time is about right. His voice sounds rusty and he remembers again Sam’s stern warnings about staying hydrated if he wants to keep donating. He reaches for the bottle of water and swigs some.

“Yeah,” the teenager shuffles into the doorway and Alec blinks again at how tall he’s gotten this past year. “Have you eaten?”

His hand tightens around Logan’s, thinking of the letters he’s been reading. “Yeah,” he says, husky. “Joshua dropped off some sandwiches this morning.”

Dalton eyes him suspiciously because they both know Alec isn’t above lying just to be left in blessed peace, and so he reaches over for the wrapped packet, displays the crusts and crumbs. He dips down to meet Dalton’s eyes. “I promise,” he says, and in spite of the hell of the past year the kid has apparently decided that when Alec says _I promise_ he actually means it, so Dalton relaxes.

Alec looks back at Logan. Squeezes his hand for a second and then lets go, rising. “Listen,” he says, “I wanted to talk to you.”

He almost smiles at the instinctive backstep Dalton takes. It’s just what Alec would have done. “It’s okay,” he says, “nothing bad.”

Those big blue eyes stare out at him as he rounds the bed and crosses to the far corner of the room, trying to ignore the spasm in his back that comes from sitting all day. He leans against the cupboards lining the wall, and focuses on Dalton instead of the bed in the background. He’s been meaning to have this conversation for days.

“I need to tell you,” he begins awkwardly, “that I – when I was away…” he swallows and tries again. “You took care of him,” he finally says, and the kid twitches.

“Somebody had to,” Dalton says, and he doesn’t mean it as a slice but it leaves a little burn of shame in Alec’s gut anyway.

“I don’t know if Logan ever told you so,” he goes on, “but he noticed. In the letters - he appreciated what you were doing. And I’m grateful, too.”

Dalton just looks at him, no idea where this is going, and Alec sighs. This is like the blind leading the deaf and blind. Off a cliff.

“Why are you saying this stuff? Is he worse?” And Dalton’s voice gets a little tremble in it that makes him seem very young again.

“ _No_ ,” Alec says, too loudly, and his hand goes out to grab Dalton’s arm. “Nothing like that. I just… I have a lot of time for thinking at the moment, you know? And there’s stuff that should be said. He’d say it a lot better than me,” he adds on a sigh, “but…”

Now Dalton is shifting from foot to foot, nervous.

“Look.” He keeps his hold of Dalton’s arm. “What I’m trying to say is-” And then he stops, staring down at his hand. He has a sudden flashback to watching Henri’s wife, the way she had wrapped her arm around their daughter’s shoulders, rubbing the girl's arm with absent affection as she listened to some schoolyard story.

“We’re family,” he says softly. And maybe it is as simple as that. He raises his eyes to Dalton. “And I don’t mean in the ‘we’re all one big transgenic clan’ sense. I mean you, and me, and Logan. We’re a family.”

Dalton is blinking at him, breathing faster.

“Now… I know I’ve been a little slow on the uptake. And mostly absent,” he says, the shame leaking through. “But I understand better now. And I love you, kid.” It just rolls out of him, a simple truth.

Dalton makes a little hitching sound in his breath.

“So this is me, telling you that we’re in this together.” He slides his hand up until it’s cupping the back of Dalton’s neck, draws the kid closer until their heads are pressed together. “I’m not leaving, not ever again. I’m staying with _you_ , and I’m staying with _him_. Okay?”

He can feel the boy shaking.

“Logan will get through this. He _will_ ,” he says it strong, because he’s gonna fucking force the universe to make that happen if he has to. Another hitching breath from Dalton, hands clenching into fists. “And then it’s gonna be our turn to look after _you_. Huh?”

Dalton raises an arm halfway, basic human instinct warring with Manticore training, and so Alec finishes it for him, wraps his arms tight around the boy and holds on, cheek pressed to the top of his head, trying to be the rock a mixed-up kid can cling to. And it takes a minute, but finally those arms come up, wrap around Alec’s waist and he’s hanging on for everything he’s worth.

“It’s okay,” Alec murmurs into Dalton’s hair. “It’s all gonna be okay. I _promise._ ” He raises his eyes to the bed and prays he’s not starting this family with a lie.

* * *

> “…Lately my anger swings around like a broken compass. There’s always enough to spare for you, don’t worry, but I am just as furious with myself.
> 
> I still look for you when I walk through the door. I still reach for you in the dark. Last night I set a place for you at the table – I’d made parmigiana.
> 
> And then there are the times when my temper just swings out of my grasp, flaring up at anyone in sight. Dalton and Gem are the only ones who can bear with me anymore, Joshua is too torn up already and the others simply haven’t the patience. But Gem doesn’t bring Skye to the house now, and the first time I realized why almost broke me all over again. But I can admit I am not fit company for her.
> 
> I tell myself you don’t know what you’ve done to me. You _can’t_ know. If you understood-
> 
> It’s the last sweet lie I allow myself, these days. The blind belief that you think you’re doing the right thing. It’s better than believing that I just wasn’t enough to hold you. Too ordinary by far for a godlike creature such as you. Broken and weak and dependent.
> 
> You can’t know how this is for me. I _won’t_ believe that.”

Gem pauses in the doorway, trying not to hear the words. They’re private, meant for Alec’s ears only, if that. But God, her heart just keeps on breaking.

“Alec.” She keeps her voice soft, it flows over his shoulder and he stops reading but doesn’t turn. Gem sighs and reaches out to grip his shoulder. “Come on. You need to eat.”

“I’m not hungry,” he says, and her grip tightens.

Can’t play nice today, apparently. “You need to eat.” This time there’s steel in her voice, “Let’s go.”

His eyes travel over the white face and the overheated body and stop on the I.V. pole, the half-empty bag of blood. “He’s almost out,” he says instead of answering.

“And they have another bag ready to go, plus Mole and two others are here donating now. You need to eat.” He still doesn’t move and so she plays her trump card, “Sam said he won’t let you give any more blood unless you eat three meals a day and drink more water.”

For a second he’s unmoving, then he nods. Folds the letter back into its envelope and replaces it in the box by the bed. “I’m coming.”

He hesitates in the doorway, glancing back.

“I’ll sit with him.” Robert Berrisford’s voice is quiet and Alec glances up, surprised to see him there. Gem freezes for a second. It’s a bad sign when a Manticore soldier can be surprised by the appearance of an untrained civilian in a public hallway. A _hellishly bad_ _sign_.

“Thank you,” is all Alec says. “Thank you, Robert.”

* * *

> “I can’t trust my own judgment anymore. My horizon is gone, sky cloaked, no earth beneath my feet. Dalton seems to be living here. I think. He brings me food, which I take, and transfusions, which I do not. And I know I’m doing this all wrong, know that I should be better than this, or at least make a pretence for the sake of others, but I can’t find the path that would let me fake normality.
> 
> Max is angry. With you, with me, with everyone. She wants me to take up my old causes, wants me to try to save the world again and I know she thinks it would salvage something of the man she loved. But he’s just a dried-out husk, and I can find no words to explain this to her. I can find no words for others. Only these letters, which I know you’ll never read.
> 
> I ask myself sometimes why this is so very hard. Lovers part ways all the time, I know this. I’ve _done_ this. I’ve been left behind before. But losing you is different. Not a night-time of the soul, not some patiently weathered eclipse. Waiting this out does not help. The longer you’re gone, the weaker I feel, like any reserves I had are depleted and now I have no resistance to fight on.
> 
> I can’t explain to them why I can’t just _get over you_. I can almost hear the unspoken ‘should be over him by _now’_. There is no way to make them understand, when clearly I wasn’t even able to communicate it to you.
> 
> You changed me.
> 
> Opened me up, turned everything around until nothing was the way I’d expected and somehow only then did my life feel like it fit. I wasn’t waiting anymore, wasn’t searching for answers or clutching at ways to make it feel worthwhile. _I had it_ , the everything we’re all seeking. It’s a bitter pill to realize I wasn’t the same revelation for you. If I had been, you never could have left.”

Alec’s voice breaks on the last line and he closes his eyes.

He likes it better like this, in the dark. When his eyes are closed he can pretend he’s somewhere else. That he’s holding Logan’s hand as the other man sleeps a deep, natural sleep, in their own bed, at home. That it’s almost morning. That soon, he’ll wake up and there will be the kind of long, leisurely kiss Alec loses himself in, disappearing until he’s not himself any more, only a part of something infinitely wonderful.

He sighs and leans in, resting his forehead on their joined hands. When his eyes are closed this is a sweet sign of affection, not a way to hide his increasing desperation.

Logan can’t keep going like this. His body just can’t go on forever taking this abuse.

Alec turns his head and opens his eyes just enough to see the pale skin of Logan’s forearm. He lays the letter carefully on the bed and uses his free hand to stroke a firm line along that arm. “Wake up,” he says, like always, and over these weeks he’s visited all the different ways to say it. Anger and threats and pleading. He’s bargaining now, with Logan himself, God or Manticore, it honestly doesn’t even matter. “I’ll do _anything_ , just _wake up_.”

There’s no movement and he raises his head wearily. It’s occurred to him more than once (as blue eyes meet his) that maybe he was given augmented strength for a reason. Maybe he was meant to be able to stay by Logan’s side longer than-

 _Blue eyes meet his._

He jolts upright like the chair’s electric. Air sucks into his lungs and his hand tightens around Logan’s. But he doesn’t speak – _can’t_ speak. And then Logan squeezes back.

Somehow it’s the last straw.

He wrenches his hand away from Logan’s, skittering backward and upright in the same convulsive movement, with enough force to send the chair careening back against the wall where it promptly knocks over the heart monitor stand.

Alec sucks in another shuddering breath, chest heaving. “Sam,” he shouts, eyes never leaving Logan’s. The equipment is beeping in the background as he calls, “ _SAM!_ ” He takes a staggering sideways step as Logan moves, struggling to sit upright, and Alec’s legs tangle in the overturned chair so that he falls against the wall.

“What the hel- _LOGAN-_ ” Sam dives from the doorway to the bed. “ _Logan._ ”

Alec tears his eyes from Logan’s face to stare at the doctor. “You can see, you can – Sam? He’s _real_?”

“He’s real,” Sam is nodding, white knuckled on the stethoscope as he listens to Logan’s chest.

“He’s really awake? He’s _awake_?” He can’t stop looking at Logan but he’s afraid, so fucking afraid to take that step forward, and oh God, he has to-

Logan is looking at him in a kind of foggy wonder as he steps forward, takes another step, falls against the side of the bed. His hands are shaking as he reaches to frame that pale, tired face, but it’s warm, not feverish against his skin. “Logan,” he whispers it, bringing his face down to press against his throat. He takes a gasping breath and feels it all lock into place when Logan’s hand brushes against his hair. “Oh God, _Logan._ ”

“ _Now_ will you listen to me and get some sleep?” Sam demands, his look stuck somewhere between bemusement and elation.

Logan is glancing from one to the other, and when he finally opens his mouth to speak, he rasps out in complete bewilderment, “What the hell is going on?”

  



	22. Catnip for Transgenics

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Hallucinations?” Logan says for about the third time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Um, I'm struggling a bit with formatting but I think this is a clean enough version to go on with. Hopefully I'll fix it in the next few days, but it didn't seem fair to hold off on posting the final chapter for that reason.  
> Thanks so much to everyone who commented and gave kudos, it's been amazing to watch my little baby grow.
> 
> I want to send out thanks to my wonderful beta, you can find Erin Hartson on fanfic.net.

_“Hallucinations?”_ Logan says for about the third time.

Alec can’t even bring himself to roll his eyes. “ _Yes,_ hallucinations. No sleep, no food, and a lot of stress, okay. Can you let it go now?”

There’s a long, lingering look that says clearly, _no,_ and then he turns his eyes back to the group gathered around the bed. “And Mole? You gave blood, too?”

Mole gives him one of his trademark flat looks. “I couldn’t stay away. I’m in love with you too.”

Alec chokes, just a little, and glances over to take in Logan’s wide, stunned eyes. Max snorts, actually snorts as Gem sucks in a giggle.

“Didnt’cha hear?” Mole continued, typically not giving a shit for anyone’s reactions or possible sensitivities. “You’re like catnip for transgenics. We’re getting calls from X6’s hiding out in Canada that have only _heard_ of you and want to donate if it means they can also mop your fevered brow and maybe snake a hand under the covers.”

“Bite me,” Logan says, face burning. He turns to nuzzle Skye, hiding his face in her neck and gets a sticky hug for his efforts.

“Now you’re just toying with me.”

“O- _kay_ ,” Max says, getting to her feet. “I think it might be time for some of us to go.”

“You mean me, I can tell,” Mole says, unmoving.

“Yeah, I really do.”

“But we haven’t had our _tender moment_ yet,” Logan recovers enough to say.

And Mole actually cracks a smile at that. The first ever spontaneous, startled smile Alec has ever seen on that dark, scaly face. He stands quickly, trying to cover, and draws a cigar from his pocket as he turns. “I’ll see you ‘round, Cale,” he says on his way out the door. Skye slides down off the bed to the floor, Logan holding on until her feet touch the ground.

Max moves forward and everyone in the room freezes for a half second, watches as Logan sits up, stares up into her face with a half smile.

Then they hug.

Alec breathes in, and then a long, satisfied sigh escapes him. The wonder on both their faces as they do this is never gonna get old. Max’s hands tighten on Logan’s shoulders and then she draws back, winks at Alec.

Gem, too, is rising, reaching for her daughter. “Time to get this one home,” she says softly.

Alec can feel his own smile form as Skye toddles toward her mother. Logan’s hand tightens around his and he looks over, immediately lost in the blue eyes. By the time he looks away again, the room is empty.

“Whoops,” he says, unrepentant. He keeps on zoning out like that, but the others are getting used to it pretty fast. Or maybe they’re not, it’s not like he’d notice that either.

“You’ve turned into a flake,” Logan says, sinking back into his pillows, voice a little thick from weariness. He still tires easily, it’s only been one day, after all.

“Apparently. Guess I’m out of the bodyguard business,” he says without thinking, and Logan flinches.

Alec freezes. Can’t _believe_ he was enough of an ass to say that, to make a joke out of something so painful to both of them. “Logan-”

But the other man has already recovered. “It’s okay.”

“You know I’m not ever – you know I’m _already_ retired. You do know that right?”

“I know.”

“I’m never gonna-”

“I know,” he says quietly, hand tightening. “It’s okay.”

He lets a long slow breath out, thinking that probably Logan _doesn’t_ really know, or doesn’t quite _believe_ , but there’ll be plenty of time to show him. He has to say that kind of thing to himself a lot – remind himself that there’ll be time. Days and weeks and months ahead of them. All the years.

“C’mere,” Logan says after a while, and Alec’s mouth quirks.

“I’m already here.” He’s perched on the edge of Logan’s bed, hands entwined. It’s their permanent state.

“Then come _here,_ ” he says, and gives a little jerk of the head that says, _closer._

Alec obliges, laying his head on the pillow, body stretching out. Can’t go upsetting the guy, after all. But he twitches when Logan says, “I want you to show me what’s in your back pocket. What you’ve had in your back pocket ever since you got back.”

Their eyes meet. Damn. He is _good._

He draws in one long even breath, not sure why this feels so revealing. He’s given everything up already, surely. But he reaches back, slides his fingers inside his jeans pocket and draws out the length of silk, lets it spool on the sheets between them.

Logan doesn’t even glance at the tie. He’s watching Alec’s face. “When?” he asks, very softly. “How long have you…”

He sighs. “Since the first time I left Seattle.”

Those blue eyes close, and he gives a little headshake. “I still can’t quite get that straight in my head,” he murmurs. “The idea that you wanted me all that time. Loved me. That I didn’t see it, didn’t have a clue.”

“I made damn sure you didn’t,” Alec replies, wry.

“Rosebud,” he murmurs, a gentle tease in that slow, honey-sweet voice that makes Alec even stupider than usual. “You were pining for me.”

“Yeah,” he sighs again. There were a lot of long, pathetic nights where he gripped that tie in his hand and just fucking _wished_. “I was.”

And Logan takes total advantage of his sudden surrender. Not satisfied with just holding hands anymore, apparently. He runs a hand slowly up Alec’s forearm, fingers dragging, until he cups an elbow. Then runs them back down in a slow, warm stroke.

Alec sighs. It’s always been his kryptonite, this kind of mesmerizing let-me-tend-to-you stuff.

Logan’s eyes are hooded, shining with pleasure as he watches Alec’s face. He strokes Alec’s forearm, long and slow and smooth, then circles round again to the sensitive inner skin.

Alec’s head is bent, eyes closed, his breathing is slow and shaky, body swaying. “I love this,” he whispers, “God I love it when you touch me like this.”

“I know,” Logan whispers back, and just this is filling up all the cracks and spaces that have sprung up over the past year, knowing his lover wants him still, just as badly, that the power and the pleasure haven’t changed at all. “Alec.”

The X5 draws in a deep breath and Logan watches his chest expand.

“Oh God,” he says, broken, and he’s biting his lip, hard, face suddenly buried against Logan’s neck.

Logan gets it, immediately, that this is even _more_ for Alec than it is for him. The realization breaks over him like a wave as he remembers the X5 saying _not one of them knew my name_ and _I avoided getting to know anyone_. He’s been so alone, all this time.

No touch. Not for months and months and months. And now Logan is biting his lip, too, trying to keep it together. “Come here,” he husks, and tugs on the arm he’s been stroking.

Alec goes, face still hidden, only now he rests it on the pillow beside Logan’s head. Logan lets him hide. From things Gem and Max let slip he's guessing Alec’s emotions have been on display for all and sundry since Logan got sick, and only now is the exposure catching up with him.

“I’m here,” he murmurs against Alec’s ear. “I’m here, babe.”

He gives one sharp nod and Logan turns his attention to the nape of Alec’s neck, the line of his shoulders and throat. “I’m here,” he says again. “You’re here. It’s all right.”

He breathes in and out for a long time, and Logan can barely understand the words that are mumbled against his throat. He can vaguely recognize one word, though. Letters.

“What?”

“I’ve been reading your letters,” Alec turns his head just enough to make himself understood.

Logan holds his breath as the realization washes over him. Oh. Ohhh. “Sweetheart,” he breathes. Most of the letters are a vague wash across his mind, more feelings than anything else. Rage. Bitterness. Abandonment. Grief. And Alec had sat by his bedside, sinking deeper into guilt and blame. “You shouldn’t have-”

“Yes I should.”

“No,” he’s shaking his head. “Not now. There’s no-”

“I had to know how it was for you.”

Logan halts. Then he says, “You already know how it was. It was as bad for me as it was for you.”

Alec shakes his head, stubborn, and Logan sighs.

“Okay,” he says, fine. “You punished yourself. Are we done with that part now?” he tilts his head to look at the X5’s face, and thinks wryly, _probably not._

There’s silence, and then from nowhere Alec says, “You made me your medical proxy.”

Logan blinks. “Yeah, I did. A long time ago.”

“Cos you’re a planner,” Alec mumbles, but there’s a hint of a smile in the words.

“That’s me.”

“Um. Speaking of.”

Logan leans back, frowning down at his partner. There’s more than a hint of nerves in his voice, and honestly, he can’t ever remember hearing that in Alec – _ever_.

“I may have taken a kind of major step while you were…”

Logan waits. When no words are forthcoming he shrugs and starts the ball rolling with a joke. “You changed my server settings?”

Alec snorts. “No.”

“You did an EyesOnly hack about match-fixing in baseball?”

Rolled eyes for that one.

“Did we get married?”

Alec bites his lip in a way that says, _you’re close,_ and he blinks in amazement. He has absolutely no follow-up questions for that one.

“I uh, kind of, ah, adopted Dalton.”

“You did what?”

“I told him the three of us were a family – or, were going to be. Whatever.”

“You did what?”

Alec is eyeing him in trepidation, and he realizes a beat later his surprise could probably be mistaken for annoyance or outrage.

“It felt right,” Alec says tightly, before he can clarify. “It feels true. To me, anyway.”

And Logan lets out a long, slow breath. Good thing he’s lying down, cos he feels a little dizzy. Jesus. Typical Alec - all or nothing. Missing for a year and then sinks straight into domestic bliss, complete with children. For one wild moment he is struggling not to laugh.

“I know maybe I rushed into it, and considering you weren’t around to talk about it I probably should’ve w- I mean, I’m not expecting you to feel obl-”

“I love you,” Logan chokes out, throat tight, and green eyes flick up to meet his. “You are completely insane, and utterly perfect for me. Yes,” he says, and kisses that flawless mouth, hard. “Yes to all of it.”

_* * *_

Night has settled around them. The clinic is quiet, and they are left alone in blessed peace. Sam had been at the eye-rolling stage, tempted to order Alec home, but something had made him relent (Logan’s pleading eyes) and they were lying together in Logan’s hospital bed, against all regulations.

He falls deeply into sleep, the warmth of Logan tucked up against his side, for once the nerves in his body at a normal state of restful awareness – normal for him, anyway. And for once, he sleeps too deeply for dreams.

When he does swim to consciousness it’s in a haze of fear that's become second nature, heat and blind lust simmering beneath. He opens his eyes and jolts, just for a second, the instinctive terror strumming through him. “Logan-”

“Sssh,” says his love, lips brushing his, eyes focused and intent.

He half-relaxes, it wasn’t a dream, Logan’s all right, but then his arousal bursts through the shield of fear and he gasps.

“Shh,” Logan soothes again, hand moving on Alec’s erection, relentless. “Sam’s already bending the rules for us. He’s not gonna take it as far as emergency hand jobs, though.”

“Emer- fuck,” Alec pants, “What. _Logan-”_

Oh God, fucking _Christ_ , he’s burning. Tremors in the legs, lust welling up from the empty chasm inside him, so alone, so cut off, all this time _without,_ Logan.

He clamps his mouth shut and a whimper escapes anyway when Logan’s tongue runs over the seam of his lips, every part of him trembling and shaking and hot, can’t escape it, doesn’t want to, the itch burning under his skin, shaking him apart

“Alec,” that husky voice whispers. “My beautiful. _Mine._ ”

Which is enough to have everything tighten, bursting through his skin so that he’s gasping nonsense, mind completely unable to finish even a phrase.

“Logan-”

“I can’t-”

“I’m-”

“Please-”

And then he moans, loud and uncontrollable and Logan’s mouth opens against his, swallows the sound, an arm snaking around his back to hold him close as he shakes and shudders and gasps his way through an unbelievably intense orgasm.

“Fuck,” he mumbles finally. “Fucking _fuck_.”

“Potty mouth,” Logan whispers back, grinning like a lottery winner.

“You are…”

“I know. I’m amazing.”

“You are a _shit_ ,” Alec mutters, body still twitching from the aftershocks.

“I know,” Logan says again without changing his tone. The grin changes the shape of his mouth, though, and Alec relaxes as the afterglow hits, lets his whole body go boneless just this once.

“I’ll do you in a minute,” he mumbles.

“No hurry.” There’s infinite love and indulgence in Logan’s voice. “We have time.”

And Alec is dropping back into sleep even as he feels Logan begin the cleanup.

_* * *_

Discharge from the clinic is quick and painless, and Logan walks out under his own steam by virtue of ruthless use of his friendship with Sam and guilty baggage over wheelchairs in general. Alec shakes his head, secretly amused at seeing his own style of amoral manipulation being adopted by someone as upstanding as Logan.

Sam sends him a flat glare that clearly spells out bad influence and Alec has absolutely no leg to stand on. Still, they manage a firm handshake that covers a great deal of ground, the two of them staring for a moment at Logan, all unspoken the hours they’ve spent watching and waiting since his collapse.

Alec drives them home through the familiar shitty streets of Seattle, takes a circuitous route out of long habit and watches Logan watch the buildings roll by, visibly thrilled to be somewhere that’s not the clinic, to smell the gasoline and hear the snatches of conversations as they roll past the long lineup for tomatoes at the local market.

They’re stopped at a sector checkpoint when Alec realizes Logan is very still, staring past the line of cars at something in the distance. He leans forward, focuses his vision through the grimy windows of the car in front to try and get the same line of sight.

“Max and me, it never would have worked,” Logan says, completely out of the blue. “You know that, right?”

Alec blinks, frozen, as he finally focuses on what Logan is seeing. A pickup game of basketball, in wheelchairs. “Uh,” he says, not sure what’s happening in the other man’s head.

Then Logan turns, meets his eyes. “In case you’re still worried about this.”

“No,” Alec says immediately. “I’m way past that now.”

And his mouth curls. “Good.”

They inch forward in line. Alec breaks the silence, curiosity getting the better of him now. “Why do you say that, though?”

Logan draws in a deep breath, staring back at the basketball game again. “We’re too alike. You know? Always putting the mission first, always protecting ourselves.” He rolls his head against the upholstery, staring over at Alec, body totally relaxed. “We never would have put each other first.”

One eyebrow lifts. “And I don’t have that problem.” _Which we already knew._ He tries not to hear the word _asshole_ in his head. It might have taken him a while, might have taken him two frickin years, but he’s beginning to understand that he can’t be what Logan needs if he keeps believing that shit about himself.

“You know what’s important,” Logan murmurs, his hand coming to rest on Alec’s thigh, a warm point of contact. “You go after what you want.”

“And I wanted you.”

“Lucky for me,” that smile spreads to a satisfied grin. Then he sobers, suddenly intense. “You smashed down all the walls, Alec, you didn’t wait for some bullshit perfect moment. And you were right.”

There’s a warmth spreading in his chest that is not at all dispelled by the appearance of a sector cop at his window. He passes through the papers with an idiot grin on his face, conscious the entire time of Logan’s eyes on him. They drive on in silence, and Logan doesn’t look away at all, not once on the whole drive home.

And Dalton is there, front door half-open as he watches Logan push out of the car and take his sweet time walking up the path, both of them grinning wide enough to burst. There’s a half-hug, _kid needs to work on that,_ Alec thinks, following behind, and then they’re inside, Logan staring around at the crappy house like his old luxury penthouse has been wrapped up and delivered to him all over again.

“ _Brace for sappiness,_ ” Alec mumbles, but he’s smiling too.

“Home,” Logan says simply, glancing back at him. He’s damn near shining with the purest, deepest joy. Then he ambles over to the kitchen, eyes running over everything at once. There’s been some kind of transgenic cleaning crew through the place – organized by Gem, Alec’s guessing.

Dalton’s phone is ringing and he excuses himself with alacrity, bounding down the hallway to his bedroom.

Alec turns toward Logan, eyebrows climbing, only to confront an identical expression on the other man’s face. “Deal?” Alec guesses, precisely as Logan says, “Girl?”

“Crap,” Alec sighs, leaning against the kitchen counter. “What did I let us in for?”

“Complications,” Logan says, grinning as he leans back against the sink, hands gripping the edge of the counter.

“Drama.” Alec rolls his eyes and saunters forward, suddenly hot and bothered at the thought of Logan, all happy and recovered, leaning up against a flat surface that would be just right for-

The kiss is hot, explosive and so fucking familiar he gasps at it, just for a second, can feel the same sense of rightness in the way Logan’s hands clamp hard on his hips, dragging him close-

“Oh. Oh, no. _So_ wrong.”

They break apart, and Alec glances over his shoulder.

Dalton has paused in the hallway, face screwed up in distaste. “Oh God,” he moans, and Logan stifles a laugh. “You guys are gonna just keep on doing this, aren’t you?”

“I think it’s likely,” Alec fake-commiserates. He still has his hands on the outside of Logan’s jeans, so really, he thinks, the kid should be taking the win.

He’s already backing towards his bedroom. “I’m just gonna –” then he stops, clearly reconsidering his first thought. “God, actually, I think I’m going to TC for a few days.” He risks a glance back in their direction. “Is a few days gonna be long enough?” It clearly pains him to ask this question, judging by the way his hands are bracketing his face, just in case something is about to occur that he might want to instantly block out of his vision.

“Long enough for what?” Logan asks, all innocent.

“Long enough for this to _never happen in front of me again,_ ” Dalton snaps. “God.”

“Give us a week,” Alec says easily. Then his eyes meet Logan’s and he thinks, _maybe two._

* * *

They get one week. One. And then the word screws them over one more time.

“Those fuckers,” Alec grinds the words out. Logan’s hand appears in his peripheral vision, sliding the coffee cup across the bench.

“What is it?”

He sighs and passes the report to Logan. For a lifelong civilian, the guy is pretty good at reading between the lines of these kinds of documents. Lots and lots of top secret reports have passed through his hands over the years. And as Logan reads he runs through his options. He really doesn’t have many.

“So… notice of a disciplinary hearing.” Logan’s long fingers are running over the details as he speaks them aloud, translating French to English in his head and Alec indulges himself, watching. The man has beautiful hands. “Serious allegations, but… no real evidence…” And then he sees it. The hand tightens. “Henri.” He looks up. “Your friend?”

Alec nods once.

“I’m assuming he’s not the type to leak government secrets?”

Alec shakes his head. Henri is pretty much the straightest arrow he’s ever seen.

“So he’s being framed.” Logan leans back, eyeing Alec rather than the report. “You know who’s behind it.” Then he draws in a quick breath as realization hits. “The men on your detail. You think this is revenge, messing with him now that you’re gone.”

Alec’s mouth twists. “They wouldn’t be expecting me to get a copy of an internal document. I was with Henri for that op,” he nods to the report. “I can clear him.”

There’s silence. Then Logan says steadily, “Then you need to help him.”

Alec sighs. He’d known Logan would say that, of course. EyesOnly and Logan Cale, the unbeatable justice-for-all combination. And truly, Alec wants to help, too. It’s just-

He stares down at his phone, mouth in a grim line. Fuck it all.

“I’d have to do it in person.” He grimaces. “It’s an internal enquiry. There’s not gonna be a court date or anything similar. They won’t call for witnesses, there’s nothing on record to indicate I was involved. I can call, but… if they want to be obstructive…”

There’s silence, and then he says again, “I really do have to go back.”

Logan just nods, but his hands are tightly clasped in front of him, resting on the report.

“I don’t want to. If it was anyone but Henri-”

Logan’s expression flickers to something ugly and Alec stops. “What?”

“Nothing.”

“Logan.”

There’s a long pause. Then he says, “He’s important to you. You’re… close.”

“Yes,” Alec says, and a second later he gets what Logan’s really asking. He sucks in a breath, rearing back and says, _“No.”_

The word comes out harsh and it’s still not enough to contain how pissed off, how hurt, how fucking-

He’s on his feet before Logan can grab his wrist, backing away from the counter. “So this is- we’re back to this? Tell me– what? You think I was fucking my way around Europe the past year, like some carefree college kid? That’s what you think I was doing?”

“No. I don’t.” He lunges forward a second time and grips a hand. “Alec, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Yeah, you did.” His gut is twisting. God damn it. He can never escape it. All the implications of what he was and what he did for Manticore.

“No.” He shakes his head, draws Alec back to his seat, raises a hand to touch his face. “I didn’t, not really. I just – you sounded different. When you said his name, you sounded-”

“He’s my friend. Has been my only friend, this whole twelve months.”

“Alec, stop.” He sighs, “I’m sorry.” He winces, raises guilty eyes to Alec’s. “I’m always gonna be jealous, I guess. I’m sorry about that, really sorry. It’s not an attractive trait to have. But I believe you. Better than that, I know you. What you went through, what this year was like for you. _I do._ I just – I’m not always rational when it comes to you and I can’t control every reaction I’m ever gonna have.”

He just stands there, still shaking from the sudden anger and sense of injury. There’s a long silence and then he says helplessly, “I’ll call Internal Affairs. I can make a written statement.”

“No.” Logan’s hand tightens on his face. _“No.”_

“It’s not worth it.” Nothing is worth putting distance between them. He was responsible for it once, he can’t ever carry that weight again.

“Of course it is,” Logan corrects, and he sighs, sidles forward to stand between Alec’s legs. “He was a good friend to you when you needed one. Do you really think I’m going to stand by and let you betray that because I’m a jealous ass?”

“You have reason to be.”

“No, I fucking don’t.” And now Logan sounds pissed. Because he knows exactly what Alec is thinking. The Charm Offensive, and all the shit that goes with it. “You’re no cheat, and I know that, so stop being an asshole. I had a bad reaction, it doesn’t mean anything.”

Alec swallows. “Logan,” he says, “I can’t – I can’t do something like that to you again.”

“You’re not doing anything to me. I want you to go. I do,” Logan whispers it. And impossibly, he smiles. It’s swift and genuine, and it unwinds every single coil of tension in Alec’s chest. “It’ll give me a chance to write you some real love letters.”

* * *

Alec is sitting in a sun-drenched square, a cup of black coffee cooling on a wrought iron table, the liquid sounds of French being spoken all around him. For the first time he’s able to appreciate the beauty of the place, but he’s still antsy. He glances at his watch one more time. Six hours to his flight.

“You’re different,” Henri says, and Alec looks up. His friend’s face is finally regaining his customary stoic mask. The shadow cast over his reputation had hurt Henri deeply. A proud man. An honest man. It would take longer than this for him to recover his faith in humanity.

“Different, how?” Alec asks, just to be a shit. He knows perfectly well, of course. His edge is gone. “Is it the hair?” He rubs a hand over the softer regrowth, longer than anyone here has ever seen it.

Henri leans back in his chair, surveying Alec slowly.

He raises an eyebrow, taunting the other man more out of habit than anything else.

“My grandmother was a gypsy, you know,” the Frenchman says, out of nowhere. “I see things.”

“Really.” Alec’s lips twitch, and he, too, leans back. He is scanning the area behind Henri on automatic, knows perfectly well that Henri is doing the same. The other man is one of only two ordinary humans he would trust to literally _watch his back._ “Should I cross your palm with silver?”

Now Henri raises an eyebrow. “I believe the long journey here is payment enough. Now it is I who owe a debt to you.”

Alec sobers abruptly, shakes his head. “There are no debts between us, Henri.”

“Between friends.”

“Oui.”

“This is the difference in you, Scott,” he says, tilting his head to one side. “A few months ago you would not have spoken so of friendship to me. There was too much anger in you for that.”

Alec doesn’t answer. There’s no need. His issues had been fairly blindingly obvious to anyone that cared to look. But the fake name sits poorly in this moment, and he makes a snap decision.

“Alec,” he says softly.

At Henri’s inquiring look, he says, “My name is Alec. Not Scott.” And he takes in a deep, clean breath at the admission.

Henri simply blinks. “Alec,” he says, trying it out. There is a long pause before he nods, acknowledging the gift, and understanding what it means.

“You have made your peace now, I think,” Henri went on, “with the one who broke your heart. The one who’s heart you broke, in turn.”

He blinks. Okay. Score one for the gypsies. Or for French intuition. Masters of love, indeed. He eyes Henri curiously. This is a new angle for him, a deviation from the stolid, unswerving foot soldier he has come to know.

“I’m in a good place, yes,” is all he says.

“The one you love returns to you,” Henri sniffs, pure French. “And you are in a ‘good place’? To speak so is an insult. Are your feelings so lukewarm?”

Alec rolls his eyes. “Did I fly across the ocean for romantic advice? Come on, Henri.”

“You were destroyed,” Henri says sternly. “I watched you for weeks, my friend, for months, waiting for the ugliness you carried to burst free. I was sure you would destroy yourself, at the very least. I worried you would take others with you. But you did not.” He relents, eyes softening. “It is a miracle to me to see you this way. Happy at last. My Sabine would weep, could she see you now.”

He shifts, excruciatingly ill at ease. What the hell?

“This man, the man you love… he is tall, yes?”

And Alec freezes. He’d never said anything, never mentioned a man or woman. How can he-

“And handsome. He is strong,” Henri nods approvingly, “strong, but not a soldier, not trained like you and I.”

Alec is tight as a bowstring, hands flexing. _“Henri,”_ he chokes, mind racing as he searches for the threat, instinctive. He’s drowning in fear, in disbelief, in hope and confusion.

Henri is staring past Alec’s shoulder, across the square. “Yes,” he murmurs, “I think perhaps this one is a worthy match for you, my friend.” A smile spreads across his face, broad and warm, and then he looks Alec dead in the eye.

“I will go now,” he says softly, “and leave you to your reunion. A honeymoon should have no spectators. But… if you are so inclined, perhaps you could visit us, before you leave Paris. It would give Sabine great pleasure to see you so happy, and to express her gratitude for your help at the hearing yesterday.”

He rises, offering his hand. Alec takes it on autopilot, blinking like an idiot.

“I thank you, my friend. Alec,” Henri says, and then he is gone.

Alec turns slowly in his seat, watches Henri cross the square and then the street, crossing in front of the tall stone church. Beside the church is a narrow laneway, and he exchanges a few words with the tall man waiting there, shakes hands warmly, and then he is gone.

Alec bolts across the street, unheeding of traffic or staying undercover or anything else. The man saunters backwards, never looking away as he sinks deeper into the shadows of the alley. Alec catches him inside of twenty seconds and they stumble together, landing up against a stone wall.

He's here.

“Logan,” he gasps, voice mostly gone. He cups that beautiful jaw in his hands, thumbs stroking over warm skin. _“Logan.”_

“I missed you,” the other man says simply, biting back a grin. “Then I figured, maybe we could see Paris together. Have an actual holiday, even.”

“Logan,” he says again, just stunned and overjoyed.

“Plus. I have to say… I thought maybe it was time _you_ followed _me_ down a dark alley,” he mumbles against Alec’s mouth, laughing. There’s no urgency, it’s all solid and deep and lasting and true.

He is lost, delirious in the kiss, but he pauses long enough to lift his head and gasp out, “Sure. Yeah.” Then he shrugs, because he’s always gonna be a smartass, no matter what else might change. “It all went smoothly enough last time."

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so, this is my first fanfic. Right now I'm just hoping someone, somewhere reads it! Comments and criticisms are welcome, I'm hoping to improve with feedback. Thanks.


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